


Mobile Suit Gundam: The Battle of Vella

by Mhex_ASC



Category: Gundam, Gundam & Related Fandoms, Gundam - Alternate Universe, Mobile Suit Gundam - Alternate Universe, Non-Canon - Fandom, original universe - Fandom
Genre: Abandoned Project, Early Work, One Shot, One-Shot, Original Mobile Armors, Original Mobile Suits, abandoned work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 12:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19132471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mhex_ASC/pseuds/Mhex_ASC
Summary: In this alternate universe, several expeditions were sent into outer space to search for distant worlds that could be colonized and turned into new homes for humanity. One such expedition eventually discovered and colonized the world of Terra. Centuries have passed since Terra's founding, and the nearby technologically-advanced colony of Huron has been at war with the Zyba Empire for centuries. This tale chronicles the events of the Battle of Vella, a Huroni surprise attack against the imperial forces stationed on the Terran moon of Vella. A fierce battle ensues, but the question remains: what are the Huroni's true objectives?





	1. Part 01: Surprise Attack

**Author's Note:**

> This three-part Mobile Suit Gundam one-shot is one of my earliest attempts at writing fanfiction. Written way back in 2006, I came across this while sorting through some old files and decided to post this for posterity. There are obvious flaws in the writing, I will not deny that, but I think it's important for any author whether amateur or professional (and I am most decidedly not a professional) to remember their roots and admit that they made mistakes when they first started out. One of the only ways we can grow is to acknowledge the weaknesses we have so that we can improve upon them and hone our craft in the process. That having been said, it's my sincere hope that you find some enjoyment reading my earliest work of fanfiction to date, and I look forward to your comments and reviews. Thank you for your time and attention, and happy reading!

Hovering in orbit around the magnificent blue/green jewel of the planet Terra stood the moon of Vella. Despite its small size, Vella enjoyed the honor of serving as the busiest and most important of all space-borne hubs within Imperial space.

Rising from the moon’s surface towards Terra like columns of smoke, the vast traffic of spacecraft coming and going from Vella’s many space ports, warehouse centers and manufacturing facilities created the space borne phenomenon known as the “Starbridge”.

A never ending convoy so immense in its size and scope that it created an eternal show of cascading light, flashing strobes, and beautiful streaks of energy trails created by each vessel’s powerful running lights, cabin lights and Zybanium furnace engines. The grand magnificence of the “Starbridge” earned it the coveted title of the greatest manmade wonder of Terra, and the whole of outer space. It was the inspiration of much of Terran art, poetry, and literature, and occupied a special place in the hearts of all Terrans.

At that moment though, no one was enjoying the Starbridge.

Explosions ripped through the dense layers of traffic and launched deadly shrapnel that ricocheted and punctured hulls as though they were paper. The scene was turned into one of complete chaos as various cargo haulers, civilian cutters and military transports danced and weaved in the overwhelming current to avoid being hit.

Adding to the confusion were several delta formations of Huroni rebel _Raptor-class_ and _Raven-class_ mobile armors that continued to streak in and out of the Starbridge, strafing targets of opportunity and sowing fear amongst the panicking civilians.

Sleek and graceful, the Raptor mobile armor’s avian-like contours, massive gravity defying maneuvering wings and strong, beak-shaped cockpit earned it both its name and its beautiful, yet fearsome appearance.

It is often said that no two snowflakes are the same; the same could also be said of the Raptor. Each one is a work of art, individually hand-crafted by its pilots to their specifications. This resulted in a combat vehicle that reflected the pilot’s personality and taste.

Though each Raptor was different, they each shared many similarities including a lateral array that generated the mobile armor’s powerful energy shields, at least one pair of pulse beam guns, a single ovoid-shaped pod nestled on the Raptor’s underside that housed and launched the craft’s deadly complement of plasma torpedoes, and at least two vacuum induction drives with a matching pair of maneuvering wings that altered the gravitational properties of space all around the Raptor and channeled it directly towards the engines. This arrangement proved remarkably efficient and gave the Raptor its legendary agility and maneuverability.

Perhaps the most remarkable attribute of the Raptor is its age. The basic design of the Raptor has remained virtually unchanged throughout the four hundred years of the Zyban/Huroni war and remaining on the cutting edge of military technology.

The Raptor’s smaller mass production cousin, the Raven, retained many of the same features including the Raptor’s propulsion system, primary weapons and shielding array. The Raven also possesses an avian-like appearance much alike its namesake of ancient Earth. The Raven however, was designed from the outset to be produced easily by the thousands; it is therefore, qualitatively inferior to the Raptor, but has still proved itself deadly in combat.

Flares of orange energy pulses erupted from the beak-like protrusions that served as cockpits for the birdlike Huroni mobile armors, turning spaceship hulls into globs of molten metal. Shards of flash-frozen atmosphere vented out from the broken hulls along with everything from cargo containers to furniture and the dead bodies of spacers as the onslaught continued.

Anarchy reigned not just in the space lanes, but also on the air waves as panic-stricken civilians radioed desperately for help while traffic control stations and shipboard commanders barked orders and counter-orders against one another. Police and military personnel struggled to regain order in the midst of what seemed to be an endless cacophony of screams, agony and death.

What confounded those responding to the scene was the rebel mobile armors ability to appear out of nowhere, and then just as quickly disappear, all without leaving a single trace. The patrols vectored from their orbital stations towards the scene of carnage, but when they failed to report back the brass of the Imperial Orbital Defense Fleet decided it was time for to take control of the situation.

A taskforce was assembled to investigate and secure the broken remnants of the Starbridge comprising of thirty support vessels, seven capital ships including a single carrier with a complement of forty Cobra general purpose mobile suits and ten Python heavy mobile suits.

Amongst the ships of the hastily organized taskforce, alarms began glowing red as screaming sirens, snapping lax crewmembers to attention. Within moments hatchways and portholes were closed, blast doors slammed shut, armor plating unfolded, hanger crews completed fueling and arming each ship’s complement of fighters and mobile suits, pilots suited up as each boarded their respective vessels, sealing their cockpit hatches shut as they launched in earnest towards their assigned battle formations.

The mobile suits were the first to the scene; the first to witness firsthand the utter horror of hundreds upon hundreds of civilian spacecraft ripped asunder and cast about like children’s toys. The squadrons weaved their way delicately through the graveyard to establish a series of defensive perimeters for the many support vessels and larger capital ships to safely pass through the strewn wreckage.

Crawling its way inward, the massive carrier moved slowly with its entourage of cruisers and destroyers positioning themselves into a loose spherical configuration, the best formation for approaching an unknown combat situation.

It was then that all hell broke loose.

Raven and Raptor mobile armors poured forth literally from out of nowhere. Beginning as a light haze in the space surrounding the taskforce that only grew larger and larger by the moment, shifting into a cloud so large and so thick that it blocked out everything in sight.

The hearts of the Zybans began to sink as they stared outwards, only to witness death gazing upon them laughing. The rebels launched their attack. Pulse beams burst forth from their noses, boiling the titanium lattice armor and precious hull plating off. Their Grapple claws carved out long lacerations in the once smooth hulls of the great cruisers and battleships as they swarmed the hapless Imperials. They were much like a hive of angry bees suddenly disturbed, and now the Imperials were paying the price.

The taskforce’s outer defense lines collapsed quickly under the beleaguering assault, opening massive gaps that were quickly exploited by the Huroni mobile armors, which poured forth into the heart of the fleet. Finding itself caught between a rock and a hard place, the carrier and its escorts comprising the nucleus of the taskforce broke ranks in a desperate attempt to smash through. Some of the smaller support vessels that managed to survive the rebel’s assault abandoned their posts, fleeing towards the security of the twelve colossal _Citadel-class_ defense platforms maintaining geosynchronous orbits above Terra.

Those that did make it soon found no more safety there than back with the inside the Starbridge as the _Citadels_ too came under attack.

Distress signals, requests for reinforcements, damage reports and the last throes of death overwhelmed the military communications stations and combat frequencies. Unable to sort through the sheer volume of traffic, the controllers of Vella Fleet HQ at ZODIAC abandoned their efforts to sort through the hundreds of messages and ordered all remaining mobile suits and fighters to launch immediately for the Starbridge.

On the moon’s desolate surface, hanger doors crawled open to the void of space as alarms began to blare and blink blinding red flares of light inside the cavernous hanger bays. Those lights suddenly turned orange and moments later hordes of Viper and Cobra mobile suits swarmed out and immediately set course for the Starbridge. Squadron leaders ordered their teams into offensive formations while squad mates checked and rechecked all their weapons and combat systems and waited, carefully searching for the enemy they knew was out there.

The fighting began in earnest as several of the more inexperienced Viper and Cobra pilots disobeyed orders, broke ranks and rushed headlong into the fray. These unfortunate souls were the first to be cut down as trios of Raven and Raptor mobile armors swooped from the shadows behind the overeager pilots.

Each mobile suit was pummeled with precision strikes of superheated beam pulse energy, vaporizing the titanium lattice armor shells. The pilots inside were boiled alive as the intense heat from the Huroni energy weapons washed over them like waves striking on a rocky shore.

The invaders continued to molest the skies over Vella with impunity, pulse beams and plasma torpedoes continued to rain everywhere, churning the sea of space into a violent maelstrom of death and destruction. The Starbridge now resembled the remains of a fallen tree with several branches trailing off from the main concourse composed of wrecked or abandoned vessels, civilian and military alike. The once proud Orbital Defense Fleet had been broken and was now struggling for its very survival. Vella Fleet HQ had also taken its share of the blitz, all defenses were crumbling under the assault, and it seemed all hope was lost.

 

Half draped in the shadow of Vella, the Imperial cruiser _Pegasus_ was a sleek vessel with smooth contours and rounded curves. She looked like an Olympic javelin with four equally graceful looking engine pods attached at precise angles around two independent support arches. Inside these arches stood the main engineering sections. Even without her engines running at full capacity, the _Pegasus_ appeared to be going fast. Not far from the truth, the _Pegasus_ was designed as a fast attack carrier for hit-and-run raids and precision jumps. Armed with the latest compound blaster and Zybanium furnace engines, the _Pegasus_ was without a doubt the fastest ship of her class in the entire Zyban Imperial Fleet.

Five mobile suits lay in wait, ready to be launched from the _Pegasus’_ massive hanger bays as the vessel accelerated toward the battle zone. Not even a bump was felt as the engines were lit to maximum burn.

From her position, the carnage taking place at the Spacebridge appeared as harmless as fireworks show in the night sky. The staccato of communications traffic told otherwise as both men and women screamed in agony for help while others simply cut out, leaving an even more soul-wrenching silence in the dark. The Pegasus’ engines flared to life as the vessel completed a sharp right angle turn to point its bow directly towards the battle.

Inside the _Pegasus’_ half-ring supports stood the massive hanger and launch bays. Unlike other ships which carried only a single catapult to launch fighters and mobile suits, the Pegasus carried 4 independent catapults and 8 drop bays that allow her to launch and recover mobile suits and fighters simultaneously.

Deep within the upper support ring, work crews and maintenance personnel were scurrying to complete launch preparations, putting on the last of each mobile suit’s array of weapons and equipment while the pilots rushed to complete their preflight checklists. Unlike other vessels in the Zyban Imperial Fleet, the Pegasus’ complement of mobile suits comprised entirely of the newly developed ZE-25 series Anaconda mobile suit.

Developed by the industrial combine of Axis Lords McLeod, Fitzwilliam and Colville, the Anaconda was a radical departure from traditional Zyba mobile suit design with its collection of smooth, gentle sloping curves and modular construction. Typical mobile suits such as the ZE-21 Viper and ZE-23 Cobra are built far more simply and somewhat on the bulky side with square-shaped torsos and limbs, sharp angled cockpits and large amounts of cumbersome titanium lattice armor plating. One of the new Anaconda’s most distinguishing characteristics was its snake-like torso that curved back to form the spinal column and a smooth triangular-shaped upper torso that oddly enough resembled the heads of the very snake the mobile suit was named after, making the mobile suit one of the sleekest and most elegant ever built.

Also unique to the Anaconda was its use of special modular equipment and weapons packages affectionately known as “Skins” that allow the Anaconda to operate in a number of different environments and fulfill a great variety of mission profiles ranging from simple reconnaissance to heavy assault. Besides being versatile and aesthetically appealing, the Anaconda also bears the distinction of pioneering ultra-tough Odin Armor manufactured by the Molenaar Corporation of the House Fitzwilliam. This special armor alloy is made using dense layers of memory cells that can rearrange their physical structure and composition in the presence of intense heat, meaning the armor can actually withstand several direct hits from Huroni pulse beams and even dreaded plasma torpedoes.

Red alarms began blaring and an incessant male voice began issuing orders for all personnel to report to their action stations. The crew members of the Pegasus hurried back to their assigned positions, completing the ship’s preparations to go into combat.

In the hanger, the red light of the alarms changed to blue alerting the maintenance to clear the flight deck. Pilots began sealing their cockpit hatches and locking themselves into combat harnesses, awaiting the order to launch.

Jon activated the ring of displays and controls all around him inside the cockpit, ran a final series of systems checks to ensure the steed that was his custom Anaconda prototype was ready. All displays winked green, indicating everything was ready.

Jon smiled to himself as he reached below his feet, retrieving his special flight suit’s helmet. The helmet was long and triangular in shape, much like the upper torso of the Anaconda Jon mused while attaching a trio of large cables into data sockets located in the back of the helmet.

Satisfied everything was properly inserted and working within normal specifications, Jon fitted the helmet over his head and locked the atmospheric seals with a loud click. Oxygen hissed into his sealed flight suit, the pressure inside his suit equalized to his body, causing Jon’s ears to pop loudly.

Small bits of text began blinking inside the helmet’s enlarged heads-up display indicating the mobile suit’s onboard operating system was in standby mode. Jon pressed a key on the chin guard along the helmet’s right side to activate his internal comm unit.

“Commence OS startup.” Jon commanded. “All systems activate, voice authorization: Get up, MAC!”

The stress patterns in Jon’s voice were carefully scrutinized while the Anaconda’s security system quickly confirmed Jon’s ID and activated the Anaconda’s computer OS. The inside of Jon’s helmet melted away to a panoramic holograph of the hanger bay’s interior which glowed a steady blue hue from the overhead status lights, illuminating the long rows of Anacondas that flanked Jon on either side, making them look even more dangerous and menacing.

A series of soft coughs coming over the cockpit’s speaker interrupted Jon’s train of thought as he realized his Anaconda’s OS had completed booting up MAC was online.

_WHAT I WOULDN‘T GIVE FOR A CUP OF JOE RIGHT NOW._ Yawned a deep bass male voice with a heavy Scottish accent.

“Good morning to you too.” Said Jon.

_JUST GIVE ME A MOMENT._

“A whole moment, huh?” Teased Jon. “Since when does it take you that long MAC?”

_I AM NO STRANGER TO SARCASM LAD; AND BY THE WAY, ALL SYSTEMS ARE ALREADY UP AND RUNNING WITHIN NORMAL PARAMETERS._

“Give me a channel…”

MAC cut him off before he could finish.

_CHANNEL ALREADY OPEN._

“You‘re the very model of efficiency, MAC.” Replied Jon as he rolled his eyes.

_THANK YOU, LADDIE._

The encrypted comm systems chimed once as the private frequency was opened to the rest of the Corsairs.

“All Corsairs, ready yourself for launch. Settle into diamond formation and standby for further orders.”

Jon was first in line to launch as he piloted his ZE-25E Super Anaconda onto the catapult. Unlike other Anacondas, Jon’s Super Anaconda featured the very latest in battlefield communications, sensory perception with its snakelike sensor arrays mounted on the triangular upper torso, and tactical analysis using the combined output of its Battle Analysis Computer (B.A.C.) and the AI construct MAC to continually gather and interpret invaluable intelligence gathered in the fog of battle.

The Super Anaconda also differed physically being 17% larger than its mass-produced brethren with nearly twice the amount of Odin armor and larger, stronger limbs with strike-hardened joints and actuators that made the mobile suit incredibly strong; so strong in fact that it could wield a massive custom two-handed Claymore broadsword. Forged using the latest in Zyr crystal lamination, the Claymore featured a blade that not only was super-sharp and would never dull or chip, but also had the unique ability to pierce even the strongest of Huroni energy shielding.

To further augment its defensive capabilities in close combat, Jon McLeod personally designed a series of folding shields hidden in the Super Anaconda’s left arm. These folding shields could deploy within an instant, transforming the left arm into a large, rectangular wall that could theoretically withstand the most intense weapons fire, including the dreaded the plasma torpedoes utilized by the Huron Rebel’s Raptor mobile armor.

Thrust-vectored afterburning Zybanium furnace reaction engines and a higher output reactor significantly boosted the Super Anaconda’s thrust and speed while additional apogee motors and thrusters mounted throughout the airframe more than compensated for the additional mass of the armor and engines, creating great maneuverability.

The Super Anaconda’s armament is rounded out with the standard medium blaster/light repeating blaster combination favored by the majority of Corsair pilots, double the normal complement of stellar grenades and EMP grenades, and finally the standard armament of two folding baton swords stored in retractable sheaths hidden underneath the upper legs.

The Super Anaconda was thus a work of art, both beautiful and deadly in its intended function: to utterly destroy the enemy.

Launch clamps locked down onto the Super Anaconda’s feet, Jon bent the knees in anticipation of the force of the launch as the countdown began on the overhead chronometer. Inside the cockpit every display glowed green, all systems were operating at peak efficiency and ready for combat.

The launch lights glowed red, then yellow, finally green. Jon roared, “LET‘S GO!”

Jon received clearance along with the rest of his squadron commanders, and gave the order to launch. Jon felt the pit of his stomach lurch as the force of the catapult pushed against his Anaconda, producing a momentary feeling of nausea. The Mobile Suit passed out the hanger and into the cold of space and the feeling quickly subsided as MAC kicked in the artificial gravity.

Glancing behind him, Jon saw more Anacondas being hurled into space by the Pegasus’ powerful catapult. One pair in particular stood out to Jon, the Anaconda-C and Anaconda-D prototypes.

“This is Corsair Leader.” Jon announced to the rest of his squadron over the group’s encrypted Comm channels. “All commanders and Corsairs check in.”

“I’m locked, cocked, and ready to rock!” That was Holly, second-in-command of the Corsairs. A tall and wiry young woman, Holly had ragged chin length blond hair and bright blue eyes. The second-in-command of the Corsairs, Holly was also the pilot of the ZE-25D Anaconda Interceptor, an Anaconda variant designed to incorporate the largest and most powerful engines and thrusters possible on the mobile suit’s frame.

To accomplish this the designers removed the traditional built-in engine system and replaced it with a large external backpack with enlarged cooling vents and a quadruple set of overlarge thrust-vectored engine nozzles. The mobile suit’s agility is further augmented with two shoulder-mounted high-mobility binders and extra leg-mounted thrusters and Zybanium furnace reaction engines to handle mass balance and ground-based operations.

To lighten the heavy loads on the ZE-25D’ airframe, Holly eliminated all unnecessary systems including the Anaconda’s standard complement of EMP and stellar grenades, folding baton swords, and only half the amount of Odin armor. The ZE-25D’ standard issue medium/light repeating blaster was also replaced with a pair of less powerful light blaster rifles.

Despite these omissions from the original design, the ZE-25D was without a doubt the fastest and most maneuverable mobile suit within not just the Corsairs, but also the entire Zyba mobile suit fleet.

“Scopes ready squad lead.” came the muffled reply. Scopes was chewing on yet another of his rare cigars while speaking over the Corsairs private frequency. It was against regulations to be smoking in the cockpit of a mobile suit since the smoke could easily damage the sensitive equipment and avionics, but Scopes did as he pleased, regulations or not. “Just tell me where to point my sights.”

A man of ancient descent with a muscular build, medium height and long black hair, Scopes was the Corsairs master tracker and sniper in addition to being the pilot ZE-25C Anaconda Sniper, a long-range assault variant equipped with a massive “Wraith” sniper grade light magnum blaster mounted atop an articulated support arm connected via power cables to a dedicated Zybanium power core attached onto the Anaconda’s back.

Due to the position of the mobile suit’s weaponry core, the engines were replaced with a pair of hip and skirt-mounted Zybanium furnace reaction engine binders. The mobile suit is further augmented with sensor absorbent materials and low visibility coatings to enhance the ZE-25C’ stealth profile, making much more difficult for the enemy to locate and track.

Despite his bravado, quick temper and his machismo, Scopes was a man that had proven himself time and again. Scopes had once claimed he could hit a target more than five kilometers away and still hit the bulls-eye with his back turned while lighting his trademark cigars without so much as breaking his stride. A tall claim even by today’s standards, Scopes’ sniping talents had nonetheless proved up to the challenge.

Glancing to his left, the holographic displays inside his helmet showed more Anacondas from the adjacent launching bay including Ravage in his Anaconda-A close combat prototype and his elder brother Rumble in the Anaconda-B heavy assault prototype.

“Rumble, all systems green.” spoke a deep yet highly cultured and fluent voice, a sharp contrast to the loud and obnoxious alto that followed next.

“Shut your trap you stone-faced gun hog! I check in before you! Ready to Rumble and tumble, and not to fumble!”

Jon shook his head, the Sinclair Brothers were notorious for their frequently petty, child-like arguments and squabbles. A habit developed since the two could mouth their first words, the two brothers butted heads over anything and everything under the sun, from petty childish yes/no shouting contests to in depth discussions of major topics including politics, economics and warfare. These arguments were even more infamous for their frequency, some occurring during the midst of combat. These arguments were often ignited over what anyone else would conceive as the most insignificant detail, but for the Sinclair Brothers it could ignite a maelstrom.

“Alright, listen up. The Rebels are attacking our bases on Vella and they’re massacring civilians at the Spacebridge. Squadron A will accompany me, Squadron B you’re with Holly, Squadrons C and D are assigned to Ravage and Rumble, try to keep civilian casualties to a minimum.”

Twenty five pairs of Zybanium furnace reaction engines came on and simultaneously lit their afterburners, accelerating away from the gleaming vessel with long contrails of purple fluorescence trailing behind as they continued toward their objectives near the chaos surrounding Vella.

 

The elegant curve of Terra rose over the barren lunar surface of Vella. Far from the great docks of Vella’s commercial and industrial centers buried deep beneath the surface stood a vast desert of fine moon dust and immense impact craters. The impact fields painted a scene that was as uninviting and inhospitable as it was alien. It was here, buried deep inside the wall of one of two great impact craters on the day side that the Zyba Imperial Forces and Orbital Defense Fleet established their headquarters.

Known as ZODIAC - an acronym for Zyba Orbital Defense and Integrated Axis Command - comprised of several strike-hardened bunkers woven directly into the cliff face. The largest of these bunkers housed the nerve center of ZODIAC, the combat command and control center, otherwise known as ZODIAC C.I.C. and overlooked two large hanger bays for the fleet’s complement of capital ships with twin clusters of smaller hangers for smaller transports and mobile suits. A vast network of point defense blaster turrets, rocket launchers, missile pods and vulcan cannons blanketed the base with a defensive wall that shielded ZODIAC against any assault from Ravens, Raptors, and even the gigantic _Condor-class_ mobile armor.

However, deep inside ZODIAC’ C.I.C., no one felt any safer inside while the battle continued to rage outside the observation deck’s armored view screens. The communications technicians and tactical controllers were soon overwhelmed as the battle rapidly turned against the Imperial Forces from the rebel’s surprising hit-and-fade attacks and the savage brutality of their assaults against military and civilian targets alike.

The overwhelming majority of the Orbital Defense Fleet’s complement of warships were destroyed, its mobile suit forces scattered, and communications with Terra’s sixteen _Citadel_ _-class_ defense platforms had been lost.

The handful of surviving ships were now concentrating their defenses around the _Citadel II_ defense platforms that remained anchored above the main approaches to the Empire’s capital of Imperial Center, the nucleus of the Imperial bureaucracy and the home of the Emperor. This left the moon of Vella and ZODIAC base virtually defenseless.

A fact made everyone at ZODIAC nervous.

The destruction of both waves of mobile suits launched by ZODIAC caused the Axis officials stationed there to panic, ordering ZODIAC’ commanders to abandon the base and escort them back to Terra. The commanders tried to reason with them, but the politicians refused to listen. Despite their disgust at the official’s cowardice, gross incompetence and selfish concern for themselves over the lives of the men and women that operated ZODIAC, the commanders had no choice but to obey them since many of them occupied high government positions among some of the most powerful Axis Lords.

ZODIAC’ entire complement of warships and the remainder of their mobile suits were ordered to escort those Axis Princes back to the safety of their homelands on Terra. This would leave ZODIAC under the command of a handful of junior officers, including Major Terrance Banks.

Before departing as ordered, the base’s commanding officer pulled Major Banks aside beyond the ears of those nearby. After giving him his orders to continue defending ZODIAC, the commander expressed his own reservations against evacuating the facility. He had the feeling that he and the escort fleet would not survive.

Banks now stood in the observation deck, watching the departing fleet outside the armored view screen. The escort fleet pulled away from ZODIAC, as it did so, Banks was filled with an overpowering sense of loss as he too shared his commander‘s feeling of impending disaster.

Most regrettably, Major Banks and his superior were right. The fleet didn’t get very far as it came under surprise attack. Endless columns of Ravens and waves upon waves of cloaked mobile armors appeared and disappeared, confounding the escort fleet’s gunners and mobile suits.

The men and women of ZODIAC watched helplessly as the rebels tore apart ship after ship, ripping hull plating and exposing the fragile atmosphere inside to the bitter cold of space. A strange, dense fog began to creep all around the battle area. The strange sight became stomach churning when the controllers magnified the fog, revealing the floating bodies of their fellow comrades, all flash frozen or suffocated to death from the hull breaches.

“Alpha squadron! Report status!” The tactical controllers signaled in vain for the squadrons of mobile suits that had just been consigned to oblivion thanks to marauding Huron Rebels.

“Delta, Epsilon, Lambda squadrons please respond!” Cried the communication officer. His reply was only the hissing of static and the uncomfortable silence.

The officers and crew looked up from their monitors and stared out the view screen, both dumbfounded and horrified by what they saw. Unable to tear their eyes away from the wretched sight, the crewmembers watched as the escort fleet was engulfed in flames, the burning hulks of the command ships carrying ZODIAC’ commanders and best officers broken into pieces, and wave upon wave of rebel mobile armors weaving their way around the fleet’s remnants.

Tears welled up in the eyes of several crewman, including the senior tactical controllers and engineers on deck. Even Major Banks, with his rock solid exterior found it difficult to stomach what he had witnessed.

His moment of sorrow was replaced with a sense of impending doom as the rebel columns shifted direction away from the escort fleet’s remains, driving hard towards ZODIAC base. There were too many, far too many for ZODIAC’ diminished crew to defend against, and Major Banks knew it.

Banks barked out orders to the gunnery teams, quick response teams and service personnel to ready themselves for the incoming bombardment.

“Any units available, this is ZODIAC control, respond immediately!”

“I repeat: this is ZODIAC command calling for immediate assistance from any nearby Imperial Forces. Please respond!”

As he tore his gaze away from the screens and monitors before him, Banks’ eyes widened in horror at what he saw through the torn blast shields over the porthole. The plasma torpedo pods beneath the two Raptor mobile armors before him were glowing crimson red and slowly shifting to white hot as they prepared to fire. Aiming directly for the command module.

A trickle of sweat stung in Banks’ eyes, and the streak of blood across his forehead suddenly went cold with the rest of his body as his mind struggled to fathom the events flashing before his eyes.

There was a loud bang and a flare of light that filled the entire observation deck, followed by a pair of concussion waves that washed over the command module that sent Banks flying off his feet and onto the hard metal deck. Fighting the overpowering pain that racked him to his core, fighting desperately to remain conscious, taking in every last second of life left to him.

“What the…” The Major muttered under his breath. Rising slowly off the deck covered with dust, grease and blots of dried blood, he glanced carefully all around the command and observations decks. Apart from a few bodies sprawled at various intervals across the deck, everything seemed intact and functioning.

Shaking his head to clear a slight dizzy spell and coughing out the burning dust and debris he had unintentionally inhaled, the Major brushed the dust off his uniform as he shifted his gaze directly out the observation deck’s armored view screen. Looking directly at a sleek white and blue mobile suit hovering only a few meters away.

“I repeat: this is Corsair Leader.” The electronic voice woke Major Banks out of his stupor. “ZODIAC control, please respond.” The voice spoke urgently into the encrypted channel. The voice was decidedly male, with the slight touch of a strange accent to his voice, but who?

Banks turned again to face the mobile suit hovering in the view screen. Whatever it was, it was a class of mobile suit he had never seen before with graceful lines, a triangular upper torso that bore a strange resemblance to a snake’s head, and skin that appeared to have a rough sandy texture to it.

He also noticed this mobile suit’s left arm was larger and more slab-like than its right, bearing a strong similarity to shield arms once used by medieval warriors of ancient Earth. The overlarge backpack also carried a large sheath near the right shoulder, no doubt used to house the massive shimmering emerald broadsword being wielded in the mobile suit’s right arm.

Whatever it was, it was certainly the most impressive mobile suit Major Banks had ever seen.

Turning back to the communications console to his left, Major Banks keyed the encrypted mike to transmit to the pilot.

“This is ZODIAC control to unidentified mobile suit; state your intentions and identify yourself.”

“ZODIAC control, this is Corsair Leader of the Corsair MS Team operating out of the Imperial Forces assault cruiser _Pegasus_. We‘re here to assist you any way we can.”

“This is Major Terrance Banks of the Imperial Orbital Defense Fleet. You boys couldn‘t have picked a better time to come.”

“What‘s the situation here, Major?” Asked the pilot.

Major Banks recounted the events of the battle to Jon, beginning with the rebel’s assault against the Starbridge and the utter cruelty and senselessness of the rebel’s while they attacked innocent and defenseless civilians with a merciless slaughter, how first local law enforcement followed by the Orbital Defense Fleet responded to the scene.

The taskforce sent in by the ODF was then ambushed and routed, leaving only a handful of survivors. ODF command had then ordered the rest of their forces into the area to search and destroy the enemy. Moments after they departed, Citadel defense platforms came under heavy attack, which sowed great confusion, causing several ships and high-ranking political officers to flee for their lives.

The ZODIAC controllers attempted to aid the ODF by ordering their own mobile suit battalions to go to the aid of their comrades, but they had been destroyed before they got a hundred kilometers away from the base.

The situation was not good: the Orbital Defense Fleet was crippled, its mobile suit forces scattered, and 63% of the _Citadel_ defense grid was down with the remaining 37% now fighting to maintain a precariously thin defensive line to block the rebels from advancing into Terra’s atmosphere.

There wasn’t much time.

“What‘s your status ZODIAC?”

The Major turned to look at his tactical monitor, which displayed the overall strength and deployment of the Imperial Forces in and around Terra and Vella. The base itself was still intact, aside from some damage sustained to the upper levels command levels and the destruction of one of ZODIAC’ three major hanger bay complexes. The mobile suit factories buried deep under the surface were another matter altogether; they had been pulverized under the plasma bombardment, sending millions of tons of rock to come crashing down on the factory and its workers.

“Major, I need to speak with your commanding officer immediately.”

“Our commanding officer was killed during the Rebel‘s second wave. All other commanding personnel were evacuated along with the bulk of our forces stationed here a few moments ago.”

A hollow ache filled his chest, but Major Banks quickly stuffed it back down. “We lost contact with them shortly thereafter.”

Banks also informed Jon of the orders given by the Axis Lord’s political officials to evacuate the base and escort them back to Terra. Despite the objections of ZODIAC‘s commanders and tactical analysts, those officials had stubbornly insisted.

Even though he could not see the hurt and pain in his face, Jon could sense the cracks in the Major’s emotional armor as he struggled to maintain tight control of himself. If their roles were reversed, Jon doubted he would have done any less; not for himself, but for the sake of his crew. The commanding officer not only acted as the nerve center, but also a pillar of support, having a direct bearing on the morale of those all around him.

Jon decided to give the Major a moment to gather himself before he reopened communications. With the immediate area secure, Jon decided to look around. The space around ZODIAC was littered with burned out hull fragments from the fallen escort fleet as well as hazy clouds of dust kicked up from the lunar surface during the fighting.

“Who‘s in charge now, Major?”

“That would be me, Corsair Leader.”

Jon’s gaze kept coming back to an empty section of space a few hundred kilometers distance away from Vella. There was absolutely nothing there, just a blank part of space. Still, something kept telling Jon this unremarkable stretch of space would be vital…

“Major Banks, I‘m taking over command of ZODIAC and the ODF.”

“Taking over?” Major Banks couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What the devil was that suit jockey thinking? “On what authority?”

“This authority.” Answered the pilot as he began transmitting his security clearance and ID.

On his consoles, Major Banks looked down on the screens as they received the heavily encrypted transmission from the mobile suit. It took the computer several moments as it worked to decrypt the message. Successfully decrypting the message, the computer displayed the contents on Bank’s monitor. What Major Banks saw was the last thing he would have ever expected.

The pilot was Jon McLeod, the only son of Axis Lord Douglas McLeod.

Banks was stunned.

“Prince Jon McLeod of the House McLeod?” The words escaped his lips with barely a whisper as he read the file. What in space was a member of House McLeod doing in the middle of a battle?

Considered the weakest of the Axis Lords, Lord Douglas McLeod and the House McLeod nonetheless occupied a position of great importance since they were the dominating force in agricultural production and distribution, supplying nearly the whole of the Zyba Empire and its military forces with food, water and clothing. So what in space did a backwater country farm boy think he could do by assuming command of ZODIAC and the ODF?

“What are you doing here? Most of the other nobles and government officials have already left, shouldn‘t you be with them?”

“You mean turning tail and running away?” Jon sent an icy shiver down Bank‘s spine. “Sorry to disappoint you Major, but I‘m not going to leave the rest of our forces to fight on their own without any hope of survival.”

Despite his strict control and restraint, Major Terrance Banks had just made the greatest mistake of his life, insulting an Axis Noble.

“Forgive me, sir.” The color began to drain from his face as he contemplated the retribution that awaited him. To his everlasting shock, it never came.

“There‘s no need, Major.”

“Understood.” Banks brushed the creases out of his tunic and stood straighter. “What are your orders, My Lord?”

“Sir is sufficient, major.” Jon corrected the Major as he again shifted his focus towards the empty space hanging nearby.

“Part of my team will be left to aid you in defending this installation. The remainder will come with me to secure an escape route for the civilians still caught in the crossfire.

You‘ll be responsible for regrouping any and all Imperial Forces that can be mustered to defend this position. See to the wounded and begin rearming all mobile suits that can still fight, and then direct them to rendezvous with my team at these coordinates.”

Jon fed ZODIAC computers the location of the area of space that captured his attention earlier. If his instincts were correct, the rebel fleet could be led to that exact spot, far away from the civilians and bring relief to the military installations under attack. There he could crush the rebels and send them packing.

Jon continued to calculate fleet maneuvers and deployments when the encrypted frequency clicked on.

“Here?!” Major Banks was incredulous. “There’s nothing there sir, and the rebels will still be in a position to attack and destroy us.”

“No they won‘t.” Jon replied confidently. “I‘ll see to that - personally.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

Jon didn’t answer the Major’s question, but instead concentrated on distributing orders to the Corsairs. Charging Rumble with defending ZODIAC along with his brother Ravage Scopes and half the Corsairs, Jon aligned his Super Anaconda to take point with Holly and the remainder of the team. Banks’ eyes widened when he discerned Jon McLeod’s intentions, he was going to lead the attack himself. It was utterly preposterous for the son of an Axis Lord to be anywhere near a battlefield, but to jeopardize themselves in such a manner? It was absolutely unthinkable.

And yet…

“Forgive me sir, but no one from my unit nor from any of the rest of the ODF or the Imperial Forces has been able to break through the Rebel’s formation! What makes you think you’ll fare any better by yourself?”

The engine outtakes on his Super Anaconda began glowing a soft orange until it melted into a brilliant purple flame. Jon glanced back at the reinforced bunker’s armored observation deck where Major Banks was standing and smiled.

“Trust me.”

 

The massive _Citadel II_ defense platform hovered in place bristling with armament including scores of computer-controlled point defense light repeating blaster turrets that automatically tracked and targeted the rebel Raptors and Ravens, Scorpion anti-ship missile launchers with multiple warheads that could shatter even a mighty Condor, and a large number of Venom homing rocket pods that could track the gravimetric wake left behind by Huroni vacuum induction drives as they sucked gravity and expelled it back out to propel their mobile armors and ships.

Even this vast array of weapons paled in comparison to the _Citadel II_ ’ centerpiece, a pair of massive super mass drivers. These weapons were considered the most powerful non-nuclear weapon in the Zyba Empire’s arsenal. They could propel solid projectiles weighing upwards of 500 metric tons to near the speed of light to smash into a target several million kilometers away with pinpoint accuracy. With its pair of super mass drivers working in tandem, the _Citadel II_ could fire one of the enormous weapons while reloading the second, thus allowing it to maintain a continuous rate of fire against its selected target.

For this deadly collection of weapons to be effective though, one had to be able to see the enemy, and that was precisely the problem. The cloaking shadow-equipped mobile armors remained hidden from sight and from the gunners within the _Citadel II’_ fire control and observation decks.

The rebels would appear only long enough to hit their selected targets and then disappear once again before the station’s point defense system could lock on; what few defenses remained.

The rebels worked meticulously as they stripped the station bare of its defense. Operating methodically, appearing and reappearing at random from one direction and then another, the flocks of Ravens and Raptors slowly pried apart blaster turrets, crushed missile launchers and sliced off the rocket pods.

The massive Condor mobile armors concentrated their efforts against each Citadel’s main weapons and complement of _Constrictor-class_ Frigates, _Hydra-class_ Destroyers and _Dragon-class_ Carriers. Mass driver accelerator barrels were bent in half or warped so they resembled a twisted newspaper while the broken hulls of a great many capital ships floated in space, many still ablaze with internal fires and explosions.

Cobra and Python pilots struggled to put up a fight in the midst of this slaughter, but to no avail as they continued to disappear in brilliant sparks of orange fire one after another.

Near the Citadel platform known as Harbor Point, the fighting was especially intense as the Orbital Defense Fleet fought like fanatics to keep Harbor Point from falling to the rebels. If Harbor Point were to fall, the rebels would have a clear shot at the capital of Imperial Center, the great Imperial Palace, and the Emperor himself.

Despite their fervor, the Imperial Forces and Dragoons continued to lose ground to the rebels as they disappeared and reappeared throughout the perimeter around Harbor Point.

In a last ditch effort the surviving Cobras and Pythons regrouped themselves into a series of defensive lines surrounding the pockmarked _Citadel II_ platform. Cobra pilots stationed themselves on the frontlines while the larger and more cumbersome Pythons were relegated to the second line to act as long range artillery support using their mighty light magnum blasters.

The beleaguered pilots readied themselves and awaited the inevitable assault. They didn’t have to wait long. The rebels decloaked several thousand kilometers away. Forming up into a dozen long tentacles, the mobile armors began balling themselves up into a fearsome heaving mass that throbbed like a beating heart. The second line of Pythons took aim and opened fire, but it proved a useless gesture as the explosive blaster bolts were shrugged by the reinforcing power of rebel’s energy shields. Suddenly, the mass of Ravens and Raptors gushed toward the line like a river rushing through a broken floodgate.

The geyser of mobile armors closed halfway to their targets when suddenly the left flank erupted with a string of explosions that caused the rebel‘s charge to falter and scatter in every direction. The defenders surrounding Harbor Point were stunned by what they saw happening as the rebels came under attack after attack from out of nowhere.

Out of the corner of their eyes the pilots caught a brief glimpse of a pair of sleek white mobile suits streaking in and out of the rebels’ formation, wreaking havoc and destruction with every pass. But who were they?

Back at Harbor Point, technicians and analysts played and replayed holographic videos trying to ascertain who those mobile suits were and what they were up to. One analyst froze the image to reveal a blurry streak which comprised of a triangular upper torso and head, and a pair of elongated hexagonal shields mounted on the shoulders of what clearly was a mobile suit. Large purple and white plumes trailed behind the shields; extra Zybanium furnace reaction engines, and powerful ones too.

The white streak was now joined by another, marginally slower mobile suit armed with a large two-handed broadsword that now flew in tandem with the previous mobile suit. Together they continued to rip the rebels apart, then many more mobile suits of the same type charged into the broken column. These joined the fray with eager abandon as they aided their comrades to break the enemy’s formation apart.

The technicians at Harbor Point observed that some of the newly arrived mobile suits differed slightly from each other as to the equipment and weaponry they carried. Quite a number mounted shoulder-mounted engines and shields very much alike those found on the first mobile suit, as well as other equipment and weapons that ranged from large axes and snake-like bucklers to heavy multi-barreled blasters and what could only be Venom homing missile pods.

It was then the tactical controllers identified the unknown mobile suits as the Corsairs, the elite mobile suit team of House McLeod. They further verified the identifications of the ZX-25D Anaconda-D and the ZX-25X Super Anaconda and continued to monitor the battle as the Corsairs charged forward. The momentum drove a wedge into the rebel’s formation that broke it into two parts.

Seizing the opportunity, Harbor Point’s gunners took aim and unleashed a barrage of blaster fire, rockets, homing missiles and stellar grenades. The broken half of the rebel’s line collapsed into a fiery inferno under the weight of the Zyban’s assault. The few survivors of the initial attack corkscrewed away from the formation to avoid the hail of blaster fire, but they soon fell victim to snipers from the second line.

Unaware of the fate of their comrades, the second half of the strand looped around like great flock of birds and reengaged their pursuit of the Corsairs. The Corsairs responded by splitting themselves into two flights; Jon McLeod taking command of one and Holly the other. The rebels in turn divided into two smaller tendrils as they inched closer and closer to the Corsairs.

Exactly what Jon wanted.

The Corsairs reformed themselves into a hollow tube formation, giving a clear view to the top of the pipe of Jon’s Super Anaconda. Pulling an emergency reverse thrust, Jon dived down the pipe directly towards the center of the looping finger chasing his squadron with reckless abandon. The maneuver caught the rebels by surprise as they reacted too late to Jon’s charge directly into their frontlines.

Jon punched through the rebel’s front ranks, swinging his radiant green sword expertly Jon cleaved the stunned Ravens in pieces, taking large wing sections, grapple arms, engine assemblies and cockpits off the Ravens with every swing.

The Pilots spread themselves outwards into a bowl-shaped formation hoping to encircle Jon’s Anaconda and isolate him from the rest of the Corsairs. Just as suddenly as he had launched his attack, Jon reversed his momentum back the way he had come; but not before releasing an EMP grenade. The banded sphere pulsed once, twice, and detonated. The powerful electromagnetic pulse unleashed by the device overloaded the Ravens systems and disabled the mobile armors.

Jon burst forth, a pair of Ravens still attached to his Anaconda in fierce death grips. With one deft move, Jon cut the Raven dangling from his mobile suit’s left leg in half with his Claymore sword.

The second Raven pilot was far quicker, extending his mobile armor’s powerful grappling arm from the wing leading edge and knocking Jon’s sword from his grasp. The Raven shifted its orientation to face Jon directly. Reeling back its powerful arms, the Raven lashed out at Jon, its triple claws itching to tear into Anaconda’s skin.

_That was a mistake,_ thought Jon as he caught both grapple arms inside his mobile suit’s hands. The two adversaries put all their strength into the grapple, pushing their machines to the limit and beyond. Even though the Raven possessed grapple arms and claws that were larger than its adversary’s, the Anaconda’s arms and hands still possessed enough strength to hold the mobile armor back. This confounded the Raven pilot as he continued to push his mobile armor harder and harder in a vain attempt to gain the upper hand against the Anaconda. Every time he seemed close to overpowering the Anaconda, he would find himself being pushed back again.

Jon decided it was time to end this struggle. Tightening his grip around the control sticks, Jon steadily applied more power into his grip, building tremendous pressure until the fingers of his Anaconda dug themselves into the Raven’s grapple arms and crushed the claws.

Jon couldn’t see the stunned look on the Raven’s face as he ripped the grapple arms out of their sockets. The terrified pilot lurched backwards away from the white devil that stood before him, but it was too late as the Anaconda’s arms caught the Raven by its wing roots. Lifting the mobile armor high above him, Jon tightened his grip and used his Super Anaconda’s incredible strength to rip the mobile armor in half from stem to stern. The Raven shattered under the force, splintering in a thousand directions and littering the space around Jon with debris.

Just then the Corsairs and Harbor Point’s gunners opened fire on the disabled mass of Ravens and blasted them into oblivion. Jon tossed the two halves of the Raven away and glanced all around him, instantly locating Holly’s team and the immense strand of Ravens still doggedly pursuing them.

Jon knew he had nothing to worry about, Holly was easily the best pilot of the Corsairs and had proved herself time and again as an excellent squadron leader. Once again his confidence in her skills was justified as Holly spread her team into a loose swarm formation. The rebels, mistakenly believing the Corsairs were breaking formation out of fear, continued their pursuit.

It was then Holly sprung her trap. Dozens of carefully dropped EMP grenades suddenly detonated inside the swarm as the rebels dove recklessly towards the center. The rebel’s entire vanguard now floated helplessly in the middle of a vicious pack of Anacondas. Holly showed no mercy as she and her squad darted back and forth through the rebel’s ranks like angry bees, stinging them with decisive strikes from their baton swords and blaster rifles.

Within a few moments, it was all over.

 

With the situation well in hand, Jon accelerated his Anaconda towards Harbor Point. Ordering his team to form around him, the Corsairs joined together with unmatched precision into their trademark **V** formation with Jon McLeod‘s Anaconda in the lead.

“Harbor Point control, this is Corsair Leader. Please respond.”

“Corsair Leader, this is Harbor Point control.” Came the haggard and exhausted drone of the communications officer.

“Harbor Point control, I need to speak to your commanding officer immediately.” Jon transmitted his ID and security clearance to Harbor Point’s computers and waited.

A moment passed as the air traffic controller passed on Jon’s request, verifying his ID and security clearance. There was a click, a loud warbling as the computers scrambled the frequency against eavesdroppers, and Jon had the commanding officer of Harbor Point on the line.

Minutes later Jon had the Commander - a particularly fanatical Red Dragoon commander - and Harbor Point’s full cooperation. Jon informed the commander of the details of his planned counterattack, at least the details pertaining directly to his intended role.

Moments later, three battle groups each comprising of two carriers and dozens of support vessels pulled away from Harbor Point and set course back towards the space hanging above Vella Jon had earlier tagged as the arena for the counterassault that would hopefully rout the rebels and drive them away.

With that, Jon redirected his attention towards the scattered swarms of terrified civilian spacecraft clutched closely together within the protective shelters littered around Harbor Point. There were tens, possibly hundreds of thousands of ships still in danger here.

They had to be protected, no matter what.

Indicating the blue blips that represented noncombatants on his HUD tactical screen, Jon keyed the encrypted comm and transmitted the data to Holly‘s computer. Holly acknowledged the signal by pulling up the tactical displays onto her monitor. “Holly, get the civilians to safety. I‘m going to remain here.”

“What is it?” She asked.

“Something’s wrong here; seriously wrong. Especially considering the fact the rebels are using mobile armors equipped with cloaking shadows; there‘s got to be something out there that‘s coordinating this assault.”

“Agreed. I‘ll organize a search team and we‘ll begin combing the area…” The rest of Holly’s reply was interrupted by the command frequency used by Jon’s Super Anaconda.

“No.” Jon ordered. “I‘m going alone.”

“By yourself?!” “Are you crazy? It‘s too dangerous out there.”

“It‘s the only way.”

“No it isn’t. You don‘t need to go by yourself, that‘s crazy!”

“Does your Anaconda possess a B.A.C.?”

“No…” Holly shifted uncomfortably in her flight harness as she realized where this was going.

Jon bored in further. “Does it possess the necessary sensory and detection equipment to pinpoint and target the miniscule gravimetric anomalies generated by cloaking shadows?”

“…Well…” A hollow ache began to fill her chest.

Jon continued to build his argument. “Can you even hope to gather and sift the necessary information needed to identify where these attacks are being orchestrated from under these chaotic conditions?”

“…No…” Holly lowered her head and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight back the moisture that had begun to gather in the corners of her eyes.

“Now do you understand why I have to go?”

“But why alone? Why can‘t I come with you?” Tears welled up in her eyes as she pleaded with him.

“You know why.” Jon let his statement hang in the air to allow Holly enough time to collect herself together. He decided to use the time to give his sensors and instruments another look, still nothing.

But Jon knew better. The rebels were out there somewhere; watching, waiting for the right moment to strike. It was time to put an end to the madness and the senseless slaughter.

“Continue to evacuate the civilians away from the battle zone. I don‘t want any more collateral damage on our hands. Once they‘re safe, link up with the battle group and head back towards Vella and get everything ready. You‘ll be in command until I return.”

“But…” Holly spoke.

“No buts, Holly!” Jon coldly barked at her. He did not like having to assume this tone of voice with her, but Jon knew this was no time for Holly‘s feelings to get in the way of her duty. He would simply have to make it up to her later. “You have your orders. Now carry them out.”

Her heart ached to go with him; but she knew her duty, and she would follow it to the end. Holly clicked on the frequency she and Jon kept between themselves.

“Be careful, Jonny.” Holly was worried for him, for his safety and his well-being. Her concern touched his heart, but he would not allow himself to be swayed, not by anyone or anything. Too many lives were at stake now, not just his and the Corsairs’, but the lives of thousands of Imperial Forces personnel and even more importantly, the lives of billions of innocent civilians if he failed.

“I will.” Jon gently reassured her. The tender moment of friendship passed as Jon resumed his role as Corsair Leader. “Now get going.”

Wiping away the tears welling up in her eyes, Holly steeled herself into her combat mode, focusing all her attention and drive towards the mission at hand.

“You heard the man.” Holly barked over the encrypted comm to the rest of her team. “All units assume escort formation. I‘ll take point.”

Taking point, Holly opened her afterburners to maximum and accelerated back towards Harbor Point with her team in close tandem. Jon likewise turned his Super Anaconda away, accelerating towards the center of the Starbridge, towards whatever was out there coordinating the rebel’s assault. It was up to him now, if he didn’t find out who or what it was and where they were positioned, he and everyone else would soon be dead.


	2. Counterattack

Jon pushed through the dense collection of wrecked spacecraft until he squeezed his way through the broken branch of the Starbridge. Using the remains of a bulk transport as leverage, Jon sprang off and away. Everywhere he looked, the hollowness of empty space overwhelmed him, in stark contrast to the crowded highways of the Starbridge.

Empty space…

“Oh … CRUD!” Jon lit the afterburners to maximum and banked his Super Anaconda into a hard dive to avoid the imminent attack. A split second later, the right foot was caught by an invisible hand. The radical alteration in direction slammed Jon hard into his flight harness and slammed his head against the seat.

Stars and dark specks danced in his vision as the Anaconda was dragged along. The direction of momentum shifted again into a gut wrenching climb to port, crushing his body against the bulkhead. His flight suit automatically inflated to keep his heart pumping and the blood flowing through his body.

Reaching with all his might, Jon unsheathed his massive Claymore sword and lurched with a mighty swing slightly above the foot, slicing off the end of a cloaked grapple claw.

The Anaconda tumbled end over end several times before Jon successfully regained control in the sparse debris field. Jon glanced down to look at his foot, and the grapple claw still dangling from his leg. The claw had left only residual damage on the leg, nothing to worry about. The mobile armor the claw once belonged to though was a matter of great concern. A mobile armor that couldn’t be seen and possessing grapple claws of such strength could only mean one thing: Crows.

A derivative of the Raven mobile armor, the Crow was designed and built around the cloaking shadow to enable it to sneak up on its target and destroy it without being seen. While Crows were known not to possess beam pulse guns, they were equipped with specially strengthened grapple arms and claws to slash, skewer and crush their opponents instead.

Due to their inability to see beyond the cloaking shadow when it was up and the limitations of their weaponry, Crows were rarely deployed unless it was in large numbers. MAC unhappily confirmed this fact.

_GRAVIMETRIC ANOMOLIES DETECTED._

“Give me a bearing.” MAC brought up the B.A.C.’ analysis, revealing the approximate positions of the anomalies detected by the Anaconda’s highly sophisticated array of sensors. The rebels were deployed in a series of semi-circular clusters arrayed all across Terran space, covering nearly all approach lanes between Terra, Vella and the Citadel defense platforms.

Even more disturbing than the large concentrations of Crows was the unmistakable presence of three Vultures, cloak shadow-equipped variants of the massive Condor anti-ship mobile armor. It was the Vultures that had caused the damage to the Citadel’s mass drivers, rendering those precious weapons useless.

MAC called out the bearings of the nearest gravimetric anomalies, half a dozen formations that were bearing down on their position. As they closed in, the rebels spread themselves to encircle the lone Anaconda and cut off his escape.

“We‘re surrounded.” Said Jon

_AYE._

Jon sighed as he tightened the seals around his flight suit and fastened his safety harness tighter around his body. “I pity them.”

_WHY?_

Flexing his hands to stretch his taut muscles, Jon wrapped his hands around the control sticks, his grip so tight his knuckles turned white. “They have no idea what they‘re getting themselves into.”

 _NOT A CLUE._ Agreed MAC.

A knowing smile spread across Jon‘s face. “Display mass signatures.” Silhouettes of the Crows emerged on the HUD inside Jon’s helmet, outlining the shape, mass, and distribution of the rebel’s ranks. “Here we go.”

With a single motion, Jon unsheathed his immense Claymore sword and swung in a 540° arc that sliced the entire flight of Crows sneaking on him in half. Jon rocketed towards the next flock and cut them in two before his first victims burst into breathtaking blue fireballs.

The next group was too far away for even the Super Anaconda’s powerful engines to catch off guard; but Jon had, quite literally, another trick up his sleeve.

Raising his left arm towards the floating remains of a nearby _Hydra-class_ Destroyer, a compartment extended from the underside of the Super Anaconda’s forearm just behind the wrist, revealing a harpoon-like grapple anchor with tethered high-tension cabling.

The anchor shot forth with a hiss as the rocket motors propelled the missile towards its target. The grapple anchor struck home, burying itself deeply into the shattered hull while grappling hooks deployed to lock the anchor firmly into place. The winches built into the arm pulled on the cable with all their might and heaved the mobile suit forward.

Combining this momentum together with the power of his engines, Jon’s Anaconda reached speeds so fast the mobile suit become a white blur across the wide open expanse. The flock was caught completely unaware by the sudden appearance of the white and blue devil barreling towards them with the mighty emerald green sword in its hand. The last thing they saw was the glint of Zyr crystal refracting light through the cloaking shadow before they were sliced in half.

The speed and ferocity of Jon’s attack caught the rebels completely off guard. It took several moments for them to grasp the fact they could be seen despite their cloaking shadows, and another moment to realize they were under attack. The shock passed swiftly as their numbers dwindled in half under Jon’s onslaught.

The large blotches representing the Crows shifted their angle of attack, driving hard to coordinate their assault together and hit the Anaconda from three sides. Jon spotted the change in their strategy and engaged his afterburners, moving himself to a more defensible position near the wrecked Starbridge. With the advantage of surprise and confusion abating, Jon opted to sheath his Claymore sword in favor of his blaster rifle.

Jon came within five kilometers of the Starbridge when the rebels swarmed him. Crows made several high speed passes, swinging their powerful grapple claws at the mobile suit as Jon twisted and turned to target the invisible mobile armors with his powerful blaster rifle. Bolts of magnetically spin-coiled compound gases erupted from the gun, disappearing beneath each Crow’s cloaking shadow and detonated on impact.

The light absorbing mirage melted away, revealing fiery fragments rocketing into space and bathing the Super Anaconda in orange light and fire. To the Crow pilots, the effect of the lighting against the Anaconda’s face was horrifyingly surreal, transforming the white/blue mobile suit into a terrifying demon.

An unnatural fear of the white demon spread like gangrene through the rebel ranks, paralyzing both their ability and will to fight. It seemed as though the demonic Anaconda was feeding off their fear as it stood there and waited.

A flash, fire and brimstone, and the glitter of an emerald green blade painted the surreal picture of death and destruction as each Crow met its end. Despite his prowess and success, Jon found no delight in taking the lives of his enemies. It was war, and one did what one had to do to protect one’s home and loved ones.

_ALL ENEMIES DESTROYED, AREA SECURED._

Jon exhaled deeply.

 _HOWEVER…_ Continued MAC.

_…IT WOULD SEEM YOUR REACTION TIME WAS OFF BY 0.25 SECONDS DURING THE ENGAGEMENT._

“Your point being?” The annoyance in Jon’s voice was as plain as day.

_YOU’RE SLIPPING LADDIE._

“Slipping? You have got to be kid…” Blaring alarms inside the cockpit abruptly cut him off.

_ALERT! MORE GRAVIMETRIC ANOMOLIES DETECTED._

“Give me a bearing.” Jon refreshed his HUD to track the new threat. Instead of seeing red blotches representing cloaked mobile armors, Jon saw nothing but the snow of static across his screens.

_UNABLE TO COMPLY. THE B.A.C. IS UNABLE TO DETERMINE EXACT LOCATIONS._

Something slammed hard into the Anaconda’s mid-torso leaving long gashes across the Odin armor. Acting out of instinct Jon rolled with the blow, freeing the Anaconda from the grasp of the invisible hand that swatted him.

Jon shook his head to clear the wave of dizziness threatening to overtake him. “Run an analysis on the B.A.C., and hurry.”

Over the next tenuous moments, Jon continued to dodge wildly to avoid more blows from the enemy hidden from sight. Meanwhile, MAC checked and rechecked every nook and cranny of the Battle Analysis Computer’s hardware and software. The test results proved even more disturbing than the B.A.C.’ inability to track the gravimetric signatures of the rebel cloaked mobile armors.

_ANALYSIS COMPLETE: ALL SYSTEMS OPERATING WITHIN NORMAL PARAMETERS. UNABLE TO DETERMINE ENEMY LOCATIONS DUE TO UNKNOWN INTERFERENCE._

In that moment, Jon knew what he had to do.

“MAC, shut down B.A.C.” The tension in the cockpit thickened when MAC failed to respond to the order.

_SHUTDOWN OF B.A.C. DURING COMBAT IS NOT ADVISED._

“Override.”

_ARE YOU CRAZY LAD? SHUTDOWN OF B.A.C. DURING COMBAT IS NOT…_

“OVERRIDE!” Jon snarled.

_ACKNOWLEDGED; B.A.C. SHUTDOWN COMMENCING._

The sounds of electronics shutting down groaned throughout the airframe and echoed in the confines of Jon’s space suit. A steady pulse of red indicators flooded the cockpit as the Super Anaconda’s computers alerted Jon the Battle Analysis Computer was offline. Jon flipped a series of switches that silenced the alarms and caused the blinking red lights to cease.

_B.A.C. SHUTDOWN COMPLETE; ALL COMBAT SYSTEMS OFFLINE._

“Give me visual sensors only.” The cockpit was slowly engulfed in darkness as all the monitors winked out one after the other.

_ARE YOU CERTAIN ABOUT THIS LAD?_

“No; but this is the only way MAC.” Tightening his harness and pulling his gloves tighter on his hands, Jon settled into the harness and wrapped his fingers around the control sticks.

_I HOPE YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING…_

“So do I.” Jon whispered silently to no one in particular.

Grasping the handle and pommel of his Claymore firmly in hand, Jon slowly raised the blade pointing directly ahead his torso. Gently lifting the heavy sword high above his head, Jon let the blade to come to a rest against the right torso and across the right shoulder in the combat salute of House McLeod.

There was no explaining it, all Jon could do was feel it, and give in to the feeling. No fear, no hesitation, just the feeling.

Jon closed his eyes and relaxed in his harness.

Everything began to go dark; the darkness engulfed everything and threatened to swallow him up. Then the darkness melted into an exquisite cascade of etheric waves rippling gently across space, penetrating everything. The current came eerily close to him, the outer hull of his Anaconda was as nothing as the stream snaked closer. Finally the river of ether touched him; it felt absolutely marvelous as the warmth lapped across his skin. Jon bathed himself in the flow, savoring every last drop of its exquisite touch as it filled his mind, body and soul.

The current continued to move and sway all around him as Jon settled his mind and body into the flow. There was no controlling it, there was no understanding it, all there was, all that there could be, was the single overwhelming impulse to give into the current.

It wasn’t long before Jon was able to make himself out, the intricate pattern that defined him in the lapping waves of the ether current. From there, Jon expanded his awareness to encompass the cockpit. Every display, every switch, every dial, every wire was laid bare before him. Soon the entire superstructure of the Anaconda was revealed to him.

Expanding his awareness still further, all was made bare before him. The floating remnants of several bulk transports, the composition of their hulls and extent of the damage they sustained during the rebel’s opening assault on the Starbridge. Jon’s sight soon included the clusters of Crow mobile armors, delighting in the protective aura of their cloaking shadows as it hid from sight.

Quite suddenly, Jon felt a flicker that translated into an intense ripple in the ether. Then another, and another, and another. Concentrating on the ripples, it became apparent the ripples were signals coming and going from the cloaked Huroni mobile armors.

So that was how they were coordinating their efforts without being discovered, using spotter craft cleverly disguised as civilian transports and some form of etheric communications, the rebels were able to position themselves to observe the Orbital Defense Fleets activity without raising suspicions and thus coordinate their assault with pinpoint accuracy.

Jon had to admit the brilliance of the scheme and the precision with which it was executed; of course the rebels had made one fatal flaw, they had not taken Jon McLeod and his Corsairs into account. And now Jon was ready to make them pay dearly for that miscalculation.

“MAC, contact the _Pegasus_. Tell them to lock onto my transponder and track our every move. When I give them the signal, they are to open fire on the coordinates given to them.”

Jon inputted the coordinates into the targeting computer, which then encrypted and transmitted them back to the _Pegasus_.

_LAD? THESE COORDINATES PAINT A NUMBER OF CIVILIAN VESSELS AS TARGETS._

Almost involuntarily, Jon tightened his focus on the target area. There were indeed civilian craft in the premises, but there was something else, something Jon could barely make out at the edges of his mind.

Another wave rippled across the sea of ether, lapping against Jon’s skin. Letting the wave cover him, Jon inhaled deeply to take it in. A rush of lightheadedness and the deep, fragrant aroma of newly acquired knowledge filled his being.

An image appeared in his mind, a young man sitting inside a cockpit, surrounded by a suffocating blackness of space. Small probes darted back and forth from the ship, melting away into the black void to be replaced by others that emerged through to return. Strange waves in the etheric currents emitting from the mobile armor splashed across the Anaconda’s circuitry, interfering with the Battle Analysis Computer‘s operations.

“They‘re not civilians, MAC, they‘re rebel spotters.”

_ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND LAD?_

“The rebels are using mobile armors equipped with cloaking shadows. We cannot see them, and they cannot see us. That means they‘re using spotters to coordinate their attack.”

MAC wasn’t entirely convinced, but he couldn’t offer any better explanations for the precision of the rebel attack, nor could he devise any better of a strategy. Resigned to trust in Jon, MAC transmitted the highly encrypted battle data to the Pegasus.

The Pegasus’ tactical officers and fire control operators expressed doubts similar to MAC’ about Jon’s assumption that the civilian tugs and transports were rebels, but they knew better than to argue with him.

“Arm the magnum blasters and prepare to fire.” Jon’s attention remained riveted on the spotter ship and the tactical coordinator nearby, watching for any signs they were alerted to his presence or the fact they had been spotted.

Hatches parted down the flanks of the _Pegasus’_ graceful hull and two massive, long-barreled magnum blasters slid into firing position.

“Steady…” Jon spoke quietly into the air.

Fire control aboard the _Pegasus_ fed Jon’s targeting data into their computers and established a firing solution. The guns tracked their target areas, glowing bright yellow at the tips as they awaited the order to attack.

“Fire!”

The recoil generated pushed the gun barrels backward as the oversized bolts of energy streaked through space. The bolts disintegrated everything in their path, including several cleverly disguised civilian transports hovering at the edge of the battlefield.

Additional data continued to funnel from Jon back to the Pegasus’ gunners as they periodically adjusted their sights to attack more spotters uncovered by Jon’s dreamlike trance in the ether.

The spotters realized too late they had been discovered as they attempted to break away. The Pegasus continued to rain death upon the reconnaissance craft, sending each craft spiraling away as chunks of smoldering ruins.

While the crew of the Pegasus concentrated on dispatching the spotters, Jon focused his attention towards the half dozen other tactical coordinators he had now detected through the etheric currents.

They were scattered along the Starbridge, near Vella, and one was orbiting near the north pole of Terra. Jon selected the lone coordinator near Vella as his first target. As he neared the hidden mobile armor, Jon felt strange surges of energy pummeling his mobile suit. Jon felt the intricate weaves of energy arc into the Anaconda like bolts of lightning as it leapt from head to toe across the mobile suit’s humanoid airframe. Jon could feel the power and intensity, but when the mysterious lightning hit the cockpit, the bolts passed through him without harming him. It was strange, exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

While the mysterious energy had no effect against Jon himself, it took a toll on the Super Anaconda, jamming its plethora of sensors and electronics. The effect grew steadily more severe until the Anaconda’s reaction time was more than doubled, turning the graceful mobile suit into a slow-moving tortoise. Moving closer, the Zybanium furnace that powered the Anaconda began to slow, reducing the power core’s energy output to a trickle. It was then a stream of ether came to him, and a flash of inspiration.

Using the last of his steed’s strength, Jon stretched the Claymore forward. Suddenly, the lightning bolts being launched at the Anaconda arced towards the jeweled blade, which absorbed the intense energy like a lightning rod as it began to glow with an emerald-colored light of its own. Seeing its attack neutralized, the mobile armor put full power into reverse thrust, trying to gain some distance from the Anaconda. It was a useless gesture though as Jon closed in and cleaved the mobile armor in half.

An unearthly wail of death resonated through the ether that racked Jon down to the core as his whole being was overcome with the terror and pain of the slain pilot.

The encounter was brief but profound, especially for the other tactical coordinators stationed at the nearby Starbridge. Jon felt their grief as they too seemed to share their comrade’s last moments before death. The effect was far greater, their bodies racked with so much pain they were temporarily paralyzed.

Jon used this pain to ascertain their whereabouts and feed that data back to the _Pegasus_ , which lobbed more oversized bolts of energy towards the enemy. Three more coordinators were incinerated alive before they could act, the fourth had just enough time to direct all forces in the area to attack the Pegasus and the Super Anaconda before it too melted away under the intense heat of the blast.

Jon felt the coordinator’s call to arms echo through the sea of ether to its allies, droves of Ravens, Raptors, Crows and a trio of the massive cloak shadow-equipped Vulture mobile armors.

“Release safeties on Venom missiles and target the area with a full spread, wide dispersal pattern.”

The _Pegasus_ complied, opening armored hatches armed with scores of Venom homing missiles as they poked their conical warheads through their launch tubes. All indicators across the board in fire control glowed green as each missile’s warhead was unlocked from standby. The Pegasus’ engines slid the ship forward into a lazy portside turn to bring all its missiles to bear on the target.

“Launch missiles!”

Clusters of Venom homing missiles gushed from the _Pegasus_ ’ wing roots, deadly pinpricks of burning fuel that streaked through space and exploded when their proximity fuses detonated the missile’s highly explosive warhead. The mass of explosions swallowed up the rebels in a flash of fire and heat that wiped all trace of them from existence.

The last rebel coordinator saw witnessed everything, the missiles exiting the _Pegasus_ , their streaks of chemical smoke and the wash of heat blanketing his comrades that cremated them alive. He decided it was time to call in reinforcements.

Jon felt the rebel’s call ripple in the ether, which was answered by the trio of Vultures he had detected earlier near the Citadel defense grid at the edge of the Starbridge as they broke away from their current objectives and entered into wing formation directly towards the Pegasus. Jon wasn’t about to underestimate this enemy, he had witnessed what the raw power of the Vulture could against the enormous super mass drivers on the Citadels, and he had no wish to see what they would do to the _Pegasus_.

“Charge the mass driver, target area at these coordinates.”

The _Pegasus_ acknowledged his orders. A seam emerged down the centerline of the Pegasus’ massive triangular hull. The seam widened, parting the vessel into two halves that continued to open wider and wider. The two halves continued to slide until they revealed the Pegasus’ main weapon, a type 2 mass driver.

Essentially a “miniaturized” variant of the mass drivers normally equipped on _Hydra-class_ Destroyers and _Dragon-class_ Carrier, the type 2 mass driver was 60% smaller than its contemporaries. Despite its small size, the _Pegasus’_ mass driver still packed a powerful punch, launching as many as three 300 metric ton rounds with a single charge. This was accomplished using pairs of magnetic field recyclers and massive capacitors all along the length of the massive gun that absorbed and redirected a significant portion of the energy normally lost in a single discharge and directed it back to launch another round. This also meant the amount of energy required to fire these smaller rounds could be drastically reduced, thus cutting the recharge time for the weapon by more than half.

The _Pegasus_ gunners counted down to full charge on the mass driver. The power building inside the sides of the weapon barrel caused the weapon to glow, first a pale yellow that changed to bright blue and finally to blinding strobes of white lightning.

The countdown reached zero as the mass driver reached full power, ready to fire. The gunners completed their calculations and acquired a firm firing solution.

“Fire!”

Three flashes of lightning leaped down the gun barrel, and three molten hot rounds leaped towards their targets. The rounds disappeared from sight, passing through an unnatural layer of dark gloom in the middle of space, slamming hard into the Vulture mobile armors hidden beneath the cloaking shadow’s light absorbing field. The first round struck the Vulture’s bow, crushing the cockpit and causing the mobile armor’s superstructure to implode. The second and third rounds each impacted against the underside and punched gaping holes that gutted the enormous mobile armor.

The Vultures separated, one began climbing for a better angle against the ship while the second disappeared by merging into the Starbridge. The Vulture approached from the ship’s side with its bow facing forward, presenting the smallest possible profile for the _Pegasus’_ gunners to shoot at.

“ _Pegasus_! Close in on this location.” Jon calculated the targeting coordinates and fed them back to the _Pegasus_. “Sweep the following coordinates with a full broadside.”

A flicker of danger jerked through Jon’s body. Jon sought the source of the danger as he frantically looked all around. With nothing in sight, Jon forced his body to relax back into the ether currents and expanded his awareness.

The flicker returned even stronger along with additional echoes and reverberations through the ether coming from below. The third Vulture emerged from the broken Starbridge with an escort of Crows and Raptors trailing close behind.

“Take evasive maneuvers _Pegasus_. Hostiles are bearing down on you from below!” Jon alerted the ship as he accelerated his mobile suit into a corkscrewing dive.

The helmsman pulled the ship into a steep climb. The nimble ship immediately responded as the ship’s underside grazed the edge of the Starbridge in time to avoid a barrage of plasma torpedoes hurled for the ship’s vulnerable underside.

The Vulture reached its grapple claw back, clapping its three claws together in eager anticipation. The Vulture pilot sneered as he reached outwards for the exposed belly of the Pegasus as it continued to climb away. Just when the he thought he had the ship within his grasp, the claw suddenly stopped just a few meters away, and refused to respond.

The _Pegasus_ ’ point defense weapons targeted the source of the plasma torpedoes and opened fire with hundreds of small blaster bolts. Anticipating the most likely path to be taken by the cloaked mobile armors, the guns shifted their aim to intercept the Crows before they could escape. The guns struck home as the explosive bolts disappeared beneath the cloaking shadow and punched hundreds of tiny holes into the Crow’s fuselage, wings, weapons, and cockpit.

The Vulture pilot backed away from the barrage of blaster fire and pulled the claw back for a closer inspection. Lodged inside the claw was a battle scarred white and blue mobile suit with its limbs outstretched, struggling to keep the Vulture’s claw at bay.

An evil grin stretched across the pilot’s face.

The pilot tightened his grip around the control stick, applying more and more into the claws. The mobile suit continued to struggle against the Vulture’s strength, but it was clearly losing ground against the much larger foe. Loud groans and sharp whistles rang through the cockpit, bathing Jon in a shower of sparks and deafening his ears with the cacophony of alarms and a riot of blinking lights.

It seemed all was lost. It was then Jon sensed something just at the edge of his perception. Forgetting where he was and what was happening, Jon shifted his attention towards the edge of his heightened consciousness to face a small pinprick of light just over the horizon. The strange yellow light was a mere pinprick in the distance, but Jon felt such tender warmth coming from it.

He stretched out for the light.

Though he could not reach and touch it, the light began to grow larger and to glow brighter. Shimmering waves of warmth cascaded all around him and enlivened his mind and body with newfound strength. Diving deeper and deeper into the ether, Jon was invigorated with its strength and energy. Jon channeled the power into his mobile suit arms and legs, increasing the Super Anaconda’s strength many times over, giving it enough power to push back the crushing force of the Vultures claw. The mobile armor’s joints overheated and exploded under the stress, shattering the claw and arm into a thousand pieces. With one swift move, Jon withdrew his Claymore, charged and thrust the sword into the belly of the beast.

The Anaconda’s afterburners kicked in, propelling the wounded Vulture along with phenomenal speed as it was steered towards the lone remaining rebel coordinator still orbiting above Terra’s northern pole. Immersed in the warmth and glow of the ether, Jon didn’t feel the crushing force of gravity while folded the Vulture dangling from his sword in half. He was completely calm and serene in the deadly ballad of death which he danced.

The Anaconda streaked by the Starbridge, the Citadels and skidded the atmosphere of Terra in the blink of an eye. The coordinator didn’t even have time to turn and face the glowing orange wall racing towards him. A half heartbeat before impact, Jon pulled the Claymore free from the Vulture’ limp and leapt away in time to stay clear of the spectacular collision. The remains of the Vulture’s already mutilated superstructure bent the opposite way, wrapping the coordinator’s vessel with twisted titanium and unspoiled miles of cabling and conduits.

Jon raised the broadsword high above his head. The weapon surged with a green fire as etheric energy poured into the Zyr crystal laminated blade. Jon brought the Claymore down into a powerful slash that cut both mobile armors in half. The cleaved halves floated away until the pull of Terra’s gravity well dragged them down into atmosphere and burned away all traces of their existence.

With that last stroke, it was over.

 _ALL ENEMIES DESTROYED, AREA SECURE._ Reported MAC.

MAC was impressed. Never would he have believed a human being capable of such incredible skill and bravery. Jon McLeod had single-handedly detected, identified and annihilated the rebel’s tactical coordinators and spotters. Even more impressive was the fact Jon had done all of this without the use of his Super Anaconda’s vast array of sensitive sensors and powerful computers.

_I CAN’T BELIEVE IT. HOW DID YOU DO IT?_

When Jon didn’t answer, MAC grew concerned.

_LADDIE?_

Jon just sat there, perfectly straight with his eyes closed and his hands still wrapped tightly around the control sticks. His heart was racing, his breath came in ragged gasps and his blood temperature had risen several degrees. MAC detected an unusually high amount of synaptic activity in his cerebral cortex and down his spinal column, enough to equal ten times more than what the human mind was capable of.

_LADDIE!_

Jon awoke from his trance with a start.

“Huh?! What is it, more enemies?” Jon said as he searched frantically across all his monitors for the enemy that wasn’t there.

_NEGATIVE, I SAID: HOW DID YOU DO THAT? BY ALL RIGHTS WE SHOULD BE DEAD._

Everywhere he looked, Jon saw the strewn wreckage of dozens, perhaps hundreds of Huroni mobile armors floating and drifting about him, and it puzzled him. Could he really have done all this?

“To be honest, I really don‘t know.”

The feelings of bewilderment subsided as Jon watched dozens of Raven and Crow flocks fade into view as they disengaged their cloaking shadows.

With the spotter craft and rebel coordinators out taken care of, the first part of Jon’s counterattack plan was complete.

Time to move on to the next part of the plan.

Jon set course for ZODIAC.

 

Holly accelerated her Anaconda down the lines of the civilian space trawlers and transports as it continued to descend from Harbor Point’s emergency shelters down towards the safety of Terra’s atmosphere. Although her eyes looked out onto the squadrons of mobile suits and capital ships flanking the fleeting caravan, she didn’t see them. Instead her attention was focused on the empty space once occupied by Jon before he blasted off on his foolish quest to locate the source of the rebel’s coordination.

The encrypted communications circuits were filled with the sound of traffic controllers denying and approving requests for the civilians to begin entering the atmosphere, but Holly only heard Jon’s voice echoing in her mind.

_Something’s wrong here; seriously wrong. Especially considering the fact the rebels are using mobile armors equipped with cloaking shadows; there‘s got to be something out there that‘s coordinating this assault._

Several years ago during her academy days, Holly had met Jon under the alias of Jed Mulligan in mobile suit flight training. Holly had already easily established herself as the top of her class by that time, but when he came along she suddenly found herself a rival. Though he had proved himself brilliant and highly skilled, Holly always managed to come out on top.

_No, I‘m going alone._

In time, the two were paired up by their instructors as wing mates. Despite the rivalry that previously existed, Jed and Holly established themselves as a formidable team. The level of teamwork they achieved was unlike anything ever seen before in the history of the academy, it was almost as if the two could read each other’s mind. The harmony between them in turn cemented a burgeoning friendship. As time passed, Holly’s feelings for Jed grew into a romantic attachment. To her dismay though, her love for him was an unrequited one.

_Does your Anaconda possess a B.A.C.?_

When they graduated at the head of their class though, the two went their separate ways. Having lost contact with him, Holly wouldn’t see Jed again for years, not until she had been personally hand-picked by the top leaders of House McLeod for the position of second-in-command of the newly formed Corsairs.

_Does it possess the necessary sensory and detection equipment to pinpoint and target the miniscule gravimetric anomalies generated by cloaking shadows?_

It was there she found herself reunited with Jed Mulligan, only to discover his true identity as Prince Jon McLeod, Axis Lord Douglas McLeod’s only son and the leader of the Corsairs.

_Can you even hope to gather and sift the necessary information needed to identify where these attacks are being orchestrated from under these chaotic conditions?_

Though the two had remained good friends and even better wing mates, Holly was still a young woman who wanted something more. Even though she knew in her head and heart that would never be, she had resolved to remain at Jon’s side no matter what, even if he never reciprocated the love she had for him.

_…we are under attack…_

Wait a minute, Jon didn’t say that. Holly’s reverie came to an end as she realized

“I repeat, this is battle group one. We are under attack. I repeat: we are under attack.”

“This is Corsair Two, we hear you battle group one. We cannot send reinforcements until the civilians are safely away.”

“How much longer until the civilians are safe?”

The evacuation was proceeding slowly, and there were still hundreds of civilian vessels waiting anxiously for their turn to descend down to Terra. The Corsairs and Imperial Forces were already working at fever pitch to speed the long columns of ships forward, and to push them harder now would only make things worse, but Holly understood what was at stake here. If those reinforcements were destroyed before reaching the rendezvous point, then Jon’s plans for the counterattack would fail and all their efforts would be for nothing.

Holly switched comm frequencies to address the lead escorts. “How much longer do we have?”

The comm warbled as the channel was secured against eavesdroppers, a low-pitched female voice called back. “ETA is five minutes.”

“Make it three.” She ordered.

The command to speed the evacuation along was filtered down through the rank and file. Moments later the caravans began to move faster as the escorts quickly shuffled them towards Terra’s surface.

“Battle group one, reinforcements will arrive in three minutes.”

The fleet controllers acknowledged Holly, sharing their reservations about being able to hold that long. In warfare, minutes could make all the difference. She also knew these were the times when they would be most vulnerable to attack as they tried to hurry.

Keeping her cool, Holly determined she would not do anything rash. She did however, encourage the capital ships and Harbor Point’s gunners to keep their eyes open and the mobile suit pilots to remain alert for any possible attack.

Meanwhile, Battle Group One was engaged by hordes of Ravens and Raptors that attacked in droves, one after another, pummeling the Imperial Forces with bolts of pulse beam energy and undulating teardrops of guided plasma. The seconds ticked by like minutes, the minutes like hours, it was excruciating to just sit there while their comrades fought for their lives.

Holly turned back towards the evacuation still in progress. The civilians were being grouped together into clusters of 50 or more, these were accompanied by either a pair of Destroyers or Frigates as they navigated their way to the surface.

One by one the groups were cleared for descent, following one after the other. The bands of spacecraft continued forward, first one, then another, and another, and another, until finally only a single group of slow-moving trawlers and bulk transports remained.

A minute later this last remnant broke away at last from the fleet with its escorts following closely on the flanks and behind, watching over the ships like guardian angels. The hulls of the vessels began glowing bright orange as they penetrated the upper layers of the atmosphere, driving for home.

“That‘s the last of them!” Fragment (consider revising)

With the civilians’ safe, Holly ordered her squadron into slipstream formation and pushed her Anaconda’s engines to the boiling point as she and the Corsairs filed into a single close-knit column and drove hard towards the battle group.

As the Corsairs closed the distance, puffs of orange fire could be seen peppering space all around the battle group. Flocks of Raptors and Ravens dissolved from sight and resolved once again, swooping past the screen of frigates and Cobra mobile suits to strike the carrier’s in their vulnerable undersides.

Showers of blaster bolts rained down on the rebel mobile armors before they could bank, bathing them with explosive energy and breaching their shields. The intense heat seeped in, instantly melting the fighters’ hull and cremating the pilots alive.

The carrier’s point defense turrets suddenly exploded as a flight of Raptors launched their deadly plasma torpedoes. The plasma vaporized turret mounts and continued to eat away at the carrier’s outer hull until it reached the critical inner hull. The massive loss of atmospheric pressure caused the bulkhead to explode outwards with the force of the escaping air.

Despite the grievous wounds it received, the carrier continued to hold its own as it awaited reinforcements. Two Hydra-class destroyers alongside the carrier erupted into twin fireballs when they were bombarded with plasma torpedoes, taking all hands down with them.

The explosions served as a gut-wrenching beacon to the Corsairs as they continued to close range with their comrades. Holly pushed her Anaconda’s airframe to the limit as she increased power to her engines, pushing the mobile suit and herself harder. She checked the charge on her weapons, making doubly sure they were hot and ready as she unlocked the safeties.

Responding to the signal beacons imbedded in Holly’s Anaconda, the Corsairs repositioned themselves from slipstream formation to their trademark V formation for attack with their weapons drawn and ready to fire. The moment they reached maximum firing range, the Corsairs cut loose with a barrage of venom homing missiles. The deadly pinpricks of fire doggedly pursued their targets until they closed in enough for their proximity fuses to detonate the explosive warheads they carried.

The explosive force of the missiles caused the mobile armor’s shields to flare brilliantly as they struggled in vain to repel the blast, collapsing inward and popping like a burst bubble. The waves of heat splashed across the hull and baked it white hot. Other missiles managed to strike their targets at the right angle to penetrate through the shields and explode against the hull, splintering the fighter into a thousand deadly fragments that collided with other mobile armors unfortunate enough to be too close.

The rebels, now aware of their quarry’s presence, shifted their angle of attack into a vertical pincer in hopes of catching the Corsairs off balance. Meanwhile, two additional waves of mobile armors appeared from behind the pincer and spread themselves outwards to form a perimeter between the Corsairs and the fleet.

Having blocked the path between the Imperial Forces and Corsairs, the rebels renewed their attack against the fleet. However, the appearance of the Corsairs had bought the battle group the few precious moments it needed to regroup, and they showed the rebels the error of their ways by launching a deadly salvo of blaster fire that incinerated a third of the rebel flights.

     

By now the Corsairs had engaged the rebels at close quarters and were slugging it out with light repeating blaster rifles and baton swords against the pulse beam guns and grapple claws of the Ravens. Though heavily outnumbered, the better trained Corsairs made mincemeat of their enemies.

With their ranks dangerously thin, the rebels began to fall back and regroup into a large, heaving spherical mass that pulsed with the reinforcing power of their energy shields. The fleet gunners unleashed another deadly storm of blaster bolts, but it was to no avail against the overwhelming strength of their shields. The ball began to coil higher and higher, until quite abruptly, a massive column burst forth and charged towards the Imperials.

The Imperial Forces continued to rain fire on the column as it neared the fleet, destroying large clusters and leaving the column to look like a stick of Swiss cheese. The column finally collapsed under the weight of the bombardment and split off into several smaller flocks of mobile armors that continued to charge recklessly forward.

These smaller groups proved more difficult to hit as they veered left, right, up and down as a united throng to avoid the incoming blaster fire. Holly locked onto her target, a large flock of Ravens veering in towards her and the Corsairs with their pulse beam guns glowing white-hot, ready to fire.

Holly was first, breaking right and dashing right alongside the incoming Ravens. Closing to point blank range, Holly raised her light repeating blasters and opened fire on the nearest Ravens. The shower of blaster bolts detonated along the mobile armor’s port side until they punched through and littered the minuscule fighter craft’s hull with tiny holes and craters. The Raven exploded into a spectacular fireball as it splintered into a thousand pieces and rained shrapnel against its wingmen.

The Raven’s wingman banked hard away from the burning remains of its counterpart in time for Holly to bat him away using one of her shoulder-mounted shields. The force propelled the Raven upwards into an out-of-control corkscrewing spin, crashing into the other wingman, causing both craft to break apart.

The flight leader was not so easy to shoot down. The moment Holly dispatched the leader slid his Raven forward, rolled 180 degrees and lurched his mobile armor over to a position below and behind Holly’s Anaconda.

With the burning embers of the Raven’s wreckage still blinding her view, Holly didn’t notice the leader creeping from below her. With her second target spiraling away and colliding into the third Raven, Holly suddenly realized the flight leader was gone, and nowhere to be seen.

Her pilot instincts took over as she pushed hard on the throttles, accelerating violently as she banked hard to starboard and dove. Moments later, the space she had just left was overflowing with pulse beams that reached out after her. The Raven pilot was quick though, quickly strafing his vehicle to keep his firing angle aligned with Holly’s back.

Pulse beams poured from below the Raven’s cockpit, tracing for the vulnerable back of the Anaconda. Holly continued evasive maneuvers, narrowly dodging strike after strike from the Raven’s weapons. The distance between them continued to tighten, drawing the combatants that much closer to eternity.

The proximity of her opponent made it increasingly difficult to evade the incoming pulse beams, this despite her Anaconda-D’ heightened mobility and agility. Holly dove her Anaconda away from the Raven, but he remained on her tail.

The Raven pilot took careful aim and launched a spread of pulse beams. Time seemed to slow, and the scene unfolded into a sort of tunnel vision for Holly as the beams lanced from the Raven. She had only seconds to react before the beams hit the weak spot on her Anaconda’s Zybanium engines, right above the power core.

Holly clenched her teeth and screamed to stay conscious as she pulled hard on the control sticks, twisting madly to face the incoming fire. The Anaconda gave a last lurch before the beams struck home. There was a flash of light and a splashing wave of heat, then an explosion.

The Raven pilot was forced to shield his eyes from the brilliant flash. Once it passed, he lowered his arm and looked ahead only to see the scatter debris of his target.

The pilot decided to take a closer look at the wreckage while he swooped past. The wreckage comprised of twisted metal bands and shards of melting plastics and…

 _WHAT?!_ Thought the pilot as he spotted what were clearly the remains of a chaff grenade. A decoy bomb used to simulate the explosion of a mobile suit and scatter various pieces to simulate the mass signature of its remains.

A loud, reverberating tapping could be heard overhead. The pilot jerked his head upwards, and found himself staring into the face of Holly’s Anaconda-D.

Holly imagined the shock on the pilot’s face as she raised both blaster rifles and blew the Raven’s cockpit off its fuselage.

Holly didn’t cheer, she didn’t whoop or holler and she didn’t grieve or lament over what she had done. This was war; there simply wasn’t time to waste. The husk of the Raven continued to burn and drift as Holly raised her eyes towards the battlefield.

The Corsairs had largely dispatched with the rebel’s first wave and had broken through the second to bring some relief to the fleet’s defenders. The battle had turned to their favor once again.

It was then another wave of Ravens appeared, only a few kilometers away from the fleet. Holly and the Corsairs spotted the rebel reinforcements and moved to intercept them.

Before she could react, the flock of Ravens unexpectedly altered their vectors and swooped past, completely ignoring her and the fleet. What in space were they doing? She continued to watch the rebels fly away and steadily reform themselves back into a long column, an eerie feeling filled her. Where were they going?

A loud click sounded over the encrypted channel, Holly’s foreboding was suddenly realized as her squad mate reported, “Ma‘am, the rebels are breaking through. They‘re heading straight for Vella.”

“Be advised, Corsair Four, there are multiple bogies heading directly towards you.” Holly warned.

“I repeat; you have heavy inbound!”

 

“No, absolutely not!” Growled Ravage at his elder brother Rumble over their own private frequency. Having departed with Holly as well as half the Corsairs towards the battle raging inside the Spacebridge, Jon McLeod had delegated the defense of the Vella installations to Ravage’s brother Rumble, a decision that as always succeeded in infuriating Ravage.

Unlike his brother, who always preferred caution and defense, Ravage favored a more aggressive approach to warfare. “If you want to stay here on your blue-blooded ass and waste ammunition on targets too far away to see, be my guest. But don‘t expect me to follow suit!”

This argument was nothing new to the Sinclair Brothers, this was ground the two constantly treaded and fought over. Despite his brother’s consistently aggressive stance and his lenience towards confrontation, Rumble was determined to remain patient and understanding of his younger brother and his viewpoints.

However, the middle of a battle was not the time for this, not with so many lives hanging in the balance. “And how do you expect to hold this position if you‘re nowhere near to guard it? Charging headlong into battle against a formation of Ravens that outnumbers you fifty to one without a plan, or cover, or backup is about the most foolhardy thing I‘ve yet heard from that malicious tongue of yours brother.”

“UP YOURS!” Ravage shot back.

“Oh, I‘m so impressed…” Rumble‘s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Reverting to vulgarities rather than presenting a well thought out counter based on intelligence or reason. How typical of your station, Ravage.”

“My station?! You have got to be kidding me! YOU‘RE A FREAKIN’ PILOT, NOT AN AXIS LORD!”

“Cut the cat-fighting, ladies!” Growled Holly on the comm. “Multiple Bogies incoming, bearing down from above, five kilometers distance. Count fifty Ravens and five Raptors.”

“Acknowledged, Corsair Two.” Responded Rumble as he viewed his tactical screens in search of the enemies Holly warned them of. “I‘ve spotted the bogies…”

“FINALLY!” Ravage cut off him off. “Watch me as I rip those poor suckers apart.” Ravage activated his Anaconda’s full combat systems, reached around his mobile suit’s back and pulled out a long silver cylinder the approximate length of the forearm. Taking it into both hands, the cylinder extended into a long pole with a large axe head at the end. The creases of a full-toothed smile stretched its way across Ravage’s face, his blood began to boil red hot as it was flooded with adrenaline. He lit his afterburners to maximum burn and shot forth like a cannonball towards the flock of Ravens.

“RAVAGE!” Rumble called furiously over the comm frequencies. “Get back into formation!” Of all the stupid stunts Ravage had ever pulled, this one definitely took the cake.

“All units remain at your posts and maintain formation; I‘m going after him!” Rumble ignited his engines to maximum burn while running another quick check on the status of all his weapons. Satisfied everything was in order, leaned forward in his harness and peered through his targeting scopes, carefully selecting his targets while being especially cautious not to hit his brother in the crossfire.

The caution was well warranted, Ravage was in his combat mode. This meant Ravage would continue to attack anyone and everything that stood in his way, without any heed to his personal safety. Not that he was in any real danger himself, and that was clearly evident as the scene unfolded before Rumble.

The rebel’s frontline and Ravage’s Anaconda-A merged together into a deadly dance of clashing blades and explosive fire. Ravage punched through the rebel’s formation, emerging right at the enemy’s rear and taking their rearguard completely by surprise. Wasting no time Ravage charged back into the fray, swinging his enormous axe expertly, hacking off wings and grapple arms, piercing through beak-like cockpits with the spear end of the axe head, and cleaving Ravens cleanly in half.

Lances of pulse beams arced forth from a crescent formation of Ravens coming in hard from high behind Ravage and to his right. Ravage dodged expertly around the fire spewing through space towards him, the few energy beams that did find their mark were lapped up by the thick layers of Odin armor lacing the Anaconda-A’s skin.

Giving the end of his axe’s handle a quick twist, Ravage released another handle into his right hand. He swung around hard to meet the Ravens head-on, the movement was accompanied by the lash of a strike whip uncoiling from within the short handle, striking with deadly speed against the lightly armored Ravens and ripping them apart.

Razor sharp crescent-shaped grapple hooks sprang out on the grapple anchor, catching the endmost Raven squarely in the fuselage and hooking it tightly. Like a fish on a line, the Raven was unable to break free of the anchor’s grasp as Ravage pulled with all his mobile suit‘s might, yanking the Raven over onto its back and toward the Anaconda-A.

The space radar blossomed red as it filled with enemy bogies, and to Ravage’s surprise, the rebels had him completely encircled with no way of escape in sight. Knowing full well even he couldn’t find a way out of the situation he now found himself in, Ravage was determined to go down fighting. Spinning and twirling his huge axe in a series of graceful arcs and circles, Ravage settled into a combat stance with his axe planted firmly across the left shoulder of the Anaconda-A. Raising his left arm slowly towards the Ravens surrounding him, he motioned with the fingers of the left hand, beckoning them to come at him.

A Raven charged from behind, hoping to catch the cocky Zyban pilot unawares. That rebel’s life was cut short as Ravage, anticipating the overeager pilot’s sudden move, grasped his axe with both hands and hefted his mighty axe with an uppercut blow that cut into the underside of the incoming mobile armor and crumpled its fragile fuselage under the force of the blow.

Two more Ravens charged towards the Anaconda-A, this time aiming for the mobile suit’s flanks. With the collapsed remains of the first Raven still clinging to his axe, Ravage shifted his momentum to throw the battered hulk directly into the path of the Raven bearing from the right. The sudden maneuver thrust Ravage backwards towards the second Raven, throwing the enemy off balance directly into the switchblade now jutting from the Anaconda-A’s left forearm just as the first Raven’s right wing collided with the tossed Raven wreckage.

The assault continued as pairs, threes and now fours of Ravens swarmed Ravage. Ravage managed to hold his own until one lucky rebel was able to rip the axe from his grip.

Fortunately, Ravage was far from finished. Thumbing a switch on his control stick, Ravage opened the storage compartments on his mobile suit’s upper legs to reveal two weapons handles now protruding from their sheaths. Grasping both weapons tightly, Ravage yanked the weapons out in time as two pairs of grapple claws came precariously close to his cockpit in the Anaconda’s upper torso.

Long blades extended from the handles to form two baton swords, the standard-issue melee weapon of all Zyba mobile suits. The blades spun in his hands, a pair of grapple claws reached out for him and was promptly cut down to size. The Raven pilot had no time to think as he felt the impact of the back of the mobile suit’s hand swiping across the beak-like cockpit. The pilot didn’t have time to scream as the baton sword in the Anaconda’s other hand pierced through and cockpit and crushed the pilot’s body into the massive red glob of flesh and blood.

Ravage’s body began to show signs of fatigue, slowing his reaction time to such a degree that he could no longer repel the attacks of the swooping Ravens. Pieces of Odin armor began to chip and break off in large sections as the grapple claws of the mobile armors continually dug deeper and deeper into the Anaconda. Ravage struggled to regain the advantage, but it was no use.

Then, quite suddenly, the attacks stopped.

Ravage, caught in a near dreamlike state of exhaustion, did not realize what was happening as a Raven hovered above him, preparing to deliver a killing blow. The Raven lifted his grapple arm high with his claws open, and suddenly blew apart.

Ravage shook himself back to attention as the screens exploded into a magnificent display of orange fireballs all around him.

And standing right in front of him, was Rumble and his over gunned Anaconda-B. Ravage noticed the shot blaster attached to the left shoulder of his brother’s mobile suit was still glowing.

Still glowing? That meant…

“HEY!” Growled Ravage over the encrypted comm. “Watch where you’re aiming that thing! You nearly singed me, you stupid, gun-loving son of a…”

The rest of Ravage’s ranting was cut off as another blast from Rumble’s short-barreled shot blaster zinged by Ravage’s shoulder, sending another Huroni rebel to a fiery death. The explosion rained debris and deadly molten shrapnel upon Ravage’s Anaconda, his Odin armor lapped up the worst of the damage like a sponge. Rumble had been too close to the blast, the resulting flash blinded Rumble when his screen was unable to dim quickly enough.

A nearby Raven sought to exploit this newly opened opportunity to attack the dazed Rumble. The Raven’s pair of triple grapple claws opened up as the pilot dived straight for the Anaconda-B’s upper torso, right for the cockpit. The pilot managed to get within a few meters of Rumble when the Raven was sliced in half from stem to stern.

Inside the Rumble’s cockpit the displays finally compensated for the flash of the explosion, with two halves of a Raven floating so close he could reach out and touch them. Just beyond the debris floated his Brother Ravage, no doubt smiling with that disdainful smirk that infuriated Rumble to the core.

“What?!” Rumble’s voice was practically oozing forth acid over their private frequency.

“You heard me!” Said Ravage.

“Is this the thanks I get for saving your life?” Rumble’s temper was getting the better of him, and he didn’t care.

“Saving my life? You nearly killed me!” Said Ravage while slashing apart a trio of strafing Ravens.

“Did not.” Rumble released a pair of stellar grenades to drift behind him, directly into the path of a wing of Ravens creeping behind. The explosive force caused the hulls to cave in on themselves and crush their pilots to death.

“Did to.” Ravage slammed the long blades protruding from his Anaconda’s knees and elbows full force into one Raven after another, driving the blades deep into their bulkheads and gutting them from the inside out. Trails of wiring, circuit boards and globs of reddish liquid followed every blow delivered by Ravage’s expert thrusts and slashes.

“Did not!” Rumble squeezed the trigger tightly, the Gatling blaster erupted gouts of flaming energy that tore through space into a curving tendril of Ravens trying to flank the brothers.

“Did to!” Another wild spin, another three Raven cockpits severed from their hulls.

“DID NOT!” Rumble fired his shot blaster, and another five Ravens splintered into burning fragments and smoldering wreckage.

“DID TO! YOU OVERSTUFFED PEACOCK!” Ravage quaked from the harshness of his own voice as he spread his arms apart. Snake-like eyes on his Anaconda-A’ torso began to thrum with power, glowing with a faint aura that abruptly flared into a brilliant white flare. It was as if a new star had been born in the night sky as the pure white light washed over the Huroni Rebels and their Ravens. As the flash of light overloaded their optical sensors before they could properly dim, the pilots were temporarily blinded, and vulnerable.

Reaching his right arm outwards, the hand retracted back inside the forearm to be replaced with two more sections sliding forward to lock in position where the hand had been. Three square protrusions at the end of the stump irised open and three long, menacing fangs lengthened outwards to reveal Ravage’s most powerful melee weapon; the Anaconda Fang.

Consumed by his burning rage, Ravage charged headlong towards his prey, the force of the acceleration slammed him into his harness as his flight suit automatically inflated to cushion his body from harm. Lining up his targets carefully, Ravage reached the Anaconda’s right arm back, winding up to strike.

Ravage’s first target recovered just enough of his sight back to witness the horrifying weapon coming directly at him. The last thing he saw was the blood red of the Anaconda Fang’s targeting eyes as the weapon skewered through the mobile armor.

The blow struck through the Raven to hit another two within striking range, causing their hulls to implode with savage power. When the Anaconda Fang withdrew from inside their gullets, the mobile armors shattered into a thousand pieces.

Ravage’s next targets didn’t even know what hit them as they met similar fates. Still consumed with rage, Ravage pressed his attack further, driving deeper and deeper into the densely packed rebel formation, leaving them ripped apart and confused.

“I DID NOT! YOU IGNORANT, UNCULTURED SWINE!” Thundered Rumble as he released all safeties on his weapons. The scope blossomed with target locks, so many in fact the lighting inside his cockpit shifted from the normal soft green of his displays to a menacing red. Hatches and armored covers slid and flipped open, revealing venom homing missile pods and racks of scorpion missiles attached to his Anaconda’s shoulders, waist, hips, upper legs, lower legs, knees and backpack.

The roar of the weapons launch inside the cockpit was drowned out by the enraged roar of Rumble as he pulled the trigger, launching a deadly salvo of missiles, rockets, and stellar grenades directly towards the fleeing rebels. The area of space was overwhelmed with chemical smoke and the heat plumes of the missiles as they ravenously homed in on their targets.

The sky was lit aflame with explosions of orange accented by cascades of blue and purple chemical fires that burn out quickly in the vacuum of space. The entire force by the impact of Rumble’s weapons, so much so that every nearby vessel’s cockpit monitors and cockpit glass dimmed to pitch black.

“QUIT HOGGING THEM ALL YOU MORON!”

“BRAIN-DEAD SIMIAN! YOU ARE THE MOST UNGRATEFUL WRETCH I‘VE EVER KNOWN!”

“BITE ME!”

“GET OVER HERE AND MAYBE I WILL YOU NEANDERTHAL!”

“BRING IT ON!”

The Sinclair Brothers continued their rampage, destroying anything and everything that stood in their way as they doggedly persisted in their childish argument about who almost killed who. The remainder of Rumble’s team wisely held back from joining in the foray, but now there was the question that always plagued them during times like these: what to do now?

It was at that moment Holly arrived to provide additional support.

“Uh… sir?” Piped a pilot from Rumble‘s MS team. When Holly did not respond to the pilot’s query, he began to grow impatient. “Sir?”

“Ma‘am!” Holly snapped at the young man. “You will address me as Ma‘am, pilot.”

“Sorry, Ma‘am.” Although no one could see it, the pilot was flush red with embarrassment at himself as he realized his error addressing a superior officer that way.

Satisfied the pilot had been properly chastened, Holly returned to the pilot‘s question. “Now what was your question?”

“What do we do?”

“You mean them?” Holly gestured towards the Sinclair Brothers, still squabbling with each other and laying waste to everyone and everything in their way. The private frequency the Brothers used to communicate with each other was flooded with the usual assortment of insults, curses and expletives that inevitably spewed out during these familial battles.

“Yes, Ma‘am.” The pilot confirmed. “Shouldn‘t we try to stop them?”

“No, leave them be. This area is secure.” Holly sighed patiently. “Besides; when those two get like this, they‘re just as dangerous to us as they are to the enemy.”

One of the pilots clicked the encrypted frequency to an open frequency so the entire squadron could hear him. “Ma‘am? Vella is reporting all hostiles in the area have either been neutralized or are retreating back towards our defense’s outer rim.”

Not good; if those rebels escaped they would call in more reinforcements.

“We have to cut them off before they can escape.” Holly said as she calculated the rebel‘s escape vector. If they maintained their current heading towards the outer edge of the debris fields, that would put them in close proximity to Scopes’ MS team. Holly keyed the comm, “Corsair Three, you have bogies inbound. Do not let them escape. I repeat: Do NOT let them escape.”

 

After acknowledging Holly’s message, Scopes signaled his snipers to halt as they passed through a large debris field with the scattered and torn remains of a large bulk transport along with several civilian sports cruisers and cargo haulers broken in half. The broken remains floated in a rough spherical layout with another trail leading off to create several smaller branches that extended along the edge of the battle zone.

“Se…” Scopes mused to himself as he pulled out a new cigar from a nearby compartment. Biting the end of the thick wafer, he pulled a wooden match and struck it against his chin to ignite a small flame. The smell of burning wood lifted into his nostrils, a smell Scopes savored almost as much as he did the bold taste of the cigar as his lungs filled to the bursting point with its tang and spice. Waves of smoke filled the cockpit as his trained eye panned across the region. “They will come through here. Right here…”

“All units; spread out to kill zone formation, Comm silence from here on out.” The other members of his sniper corps acknowledged their compliance using hand signals, moving silently with deadly purpose. Carefully wedging his Anaconda-C into the bowels of the shattered bulk transport’s hull, Scopes hid himself inside as he searched the internal layout for the best possible angles to exploit, being careful to note all blind spots in his vector.

Satisfied with his position, Scopes clicked off the safeties on his weapon, a deadly “Wraith” sniper model magnum blaster that could lodge hyper-accurate bolts of invisible energy from great distances without the danger of giving away the sniper’s position to the enemy. The weapon was the very latest in blaster weaponry, a work of art unlike any other.

Scopes quickly ran through the diagnostic cycle of his weaponry, checking and rechecking that the weapon was loaded and fully charged, ready to go. Everything was set; the rest of his team would be in position by now, ready to strike any hapless rebel who was foolish enough to stumble their way towards their doom.

Cycling throughout the various magnifications of the targeting lens, Scopes spotted flight of Ravens approaching their position fast. Once in range, Scopes selected his first target among the trio, realizing these rebels were attempting to escape the battle zone by passing through the debris field.

Carefully putting the crosshairs on his target, Scopes chomped down onto his burning cigar and smiled a mouth of gleaming white fangs. “Dé mi respeto al diablo.”

Scopes pulled the trigger, an invisible bolt of energy leapt from the barrel of his Wraith snipe blaster striking through the energy shielding of the target Raven, detonating with savage force inside the pierced hull and causing the hull to ripple with the force of explosion.

Scopes wasted no time to celebrate; he simply shifted the crosshairs on the next Raven, blowing the mobile armor to pieces with his next shot. The third Raven was claimed by a pair of shots fired from among one of the nearby trailing branches of debris.

The explosions would attract attention no doubt, leading more Huroni Rebels to this spot as they would indeed do. As the ancient saying went, ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’ And curiosity would most certainly get the rebels killed when they blundered into this kill zone.

Scopes and his snipers didn’t have long to wait.

“Another kill for me.” Another explosion, another kill.

“Goce de su viaje al infierno.” Scopes’ smile broadened as his temperature of his blood rose with the heat of the moment. Kill came after kill and after kill. Scopes and his team accumulated so many kills they lost count of the number of dead they left behind.

“Véale en infierno, Espuma de Huroni.” His cigar was burned all the way to his lips. They burned with a low fury, the pain spreading across mouth, his face, watering his eyes and burning his nostrils with stink of his own flesh. Scopes didn’t notice; the pleasure of the kill overrode his own sense of reality. He began to laugh inside his cockpit. Not an ordinary laugh, but a high-pitched cackle that betrayed the dark purpose of his bloodlust.

The Ravens were pulling back now, at least those that were fortunate enough to be able to, right back to where they wanted them. Scopes spit the stub of his burnt cigar onto the cold metal deck, and leaned back in his harness, shaking with the pleasure that always followed such exquisite precision killing while feeling the rush of adrenaline as he fished for yet another cigar. There would be more of them coming, but for now, all there was for Scopes was the aroma of his next smoke.

 

Without the aid of their coordinators, the rebels now had no choice but to abandon their plan and reveal themselves. Bearing this in mind, Jon busied himself administering orders and drawing up the lines of battle at the void he’d selected earlier to stage his daring plan.

The tactical officers and communications technicians at ZODIAC relayed his orders to every corner of the fleet, positioning each destroyer, frigate, carrier and mobile suit to its proper position in the rank and file.

With the fleet deployments going smoothly, all that remained was the call back the Corsairs and have them assume their place at the center.

“This is Corsair Leader to all units: return to your action stations and standby.”

Acknowledgement lights flickered on and off as each Corsair received Jon’s recall order. Moments later the Corsairs had all returned and were now positioning themselves accordingly, eager to meet the rebels head on and sent them packing.

Everything was ready.


	3. MADCAP

Vella hung on an invisible pedestal that had long ago been ordained for the small turquoise-colored moon by the laws of nature and the universe. The light from Terra’s primary shined on the sparkling deposits of Zyr crystal that dotted on the moon’s otherwise barren landscape. It was a moment of beauty and peace that never failed to move him, a moment that he would have loved to stop and admire.

At least under normal circumstances.

Right now, the circumstances were anything but normal. The Huron rebels, the ancient enemies of the Zyba Empire, had launched a massive surprise attack against unarmed civilians in the Starbridge, a massive highway that led from the planet Terra and the nearby moon of Vella. When law enforcement officials likewise fell victim the Orbital Defense Fleet stepped in.

Sending a taskforce in to investigate what had happened, the Imperial Forces came under surprise attack from rebel mobile armors equipped with light absorbing cloaking shadows.

Decimated by the attack, the remnants of the taskforce barreled their way out of the battle and summoned reinforcements. Once the reinforcements had departed the Citadel defense platforms, the rebels - using hidden spotters and tactical coordinators to direct their blind comrades - attacked the unguarded Citadels with massive cloak shadow-equipped Vulture and Condor heavy mobile armors. This attack to the rear led to great confusion in the Imperial ranks, which left them wide open to attack.

During this period of confusion and mass slaughter, several high-ranking officials and commanders had opted to abandon their posts and retreat to Terra, taking with them the bulk of the Orbital Defense Fleet’s forces as escorts along the way.

These acts of cowardice, combined with the gross incompetence of its officers, took a tremendous toll on the Imperial Forces. Just when hope was lost though, Jon McLeod and the Corsairs arrived and single-handedly managed to reorganize and rally the demoralized imperial troops and had pushed the rebels back.

Putting himself at great risk, Jon McLeod had gone out alone and had discovered and - with fire support from the Corsair ship Pegasus - destroyed the hidden rebel spotters and coordinators that directed the highly effective use of cloaking shadows. Without support, the rebels had been blinded and would soon be forced to attack in the open.

That was exactly what Jon McLeod wanted.

Getting closer to Vella, the remains of the once proud Orbital Defense Fleet came into view. The ships and their complements of mobile suits were busy moving themselves into their respective positions in an empty area of space Jon had earlier spotted and slated as the site of his counterstrike.

ZODIAC’ surplus of controllers established contact with Jon and updated him on the current situation. Formation of the line of battle was nearly complete. Requesting the latest battlefield maps, the tactical data streamed into the Battle Analysis Computer and confirmed what Jon already knew.

The Imperial Forces fleet was arranged into made of five separate groups. Each group comprised one part of a V-shaped defense line hovering a thousand kilometers above ZODIAC base that stretched out as far as the eye could see.

The two groups furthest back comprised the third defensive line. Positioned on the flanks, these were the most heavily fortified of the defensive lines, comprised of the overwhelming majority of the _Dragon-class_ Carriers along with an accompanying flotilla of _Constrictor-class_ frigates for point-defense, _Hydra-class_ Destroyers for heavy artillery support, and finally scores upon scores of Python heavy mobile suits for long range sniping.

Two more battle groups comprised the second line positioned forward of the third line and behind the ends of the first line. This line of battle was comprised primarily of _Constrictor-class_ frigates and large hordes of Cobra mobile suits fresh to the battlefield. These would be held in reserve to fill in any gaps in the line.

The first defensive line was placed right in the center of the V and was the thinnest of all, being held only by a small contingent of mobile suits including the _Pegasus_ assault-cruiser and the 25+ Corsairs in their Anacondas.

Smack dab in the middle of it all, Jon would lead the men and women under his command from the frontlines. ZODIAC C.I.C. would continue to monitor and broadcast his orders and relay tactical information and run the bulk of inter-fleet communications, leaving Jon the ability to concentrate on the progress of the battle.

If everything proceeded according to plan, the rebel mobile armors would bunch up to make the best use of their overlapping shields and charge for the center line, which would be the weakest point in the line. There, Jon hoped to herd the rebels further by spreading the second and defensive lines forward to funnel the rebels closer towards the center. Then, when the rebels were surrounded, and as long as the centerline held, Jon would then finish off the rebels with a surprise of his own.

For the plan to work though, everyone had to be in his or her assigned place and perform his or her specified role, including Jon himself. Not wasting any more time, Jon set course for his place at the front of the centerline.

 

Outside the windows of ZODIAC’ observation deck the last remnants of the battle groups’ formations were nearly complete. Major Terrance Banks’ gaze panned across space and came to rest on the centerline, which was dangerously thin compared to the heavily reinforced second and third defensive lines.

“Sir.” Piped up the young man working at the nearby console. “The first defensive line reports battle readiness, the Second line is reporting they will be ready within two minutes and the third line within three minutes.”

“Very good, private.”

The Private returned to his work, typing away furiously as information continued to pour into his monitor. The Major noticed the young man’s forehead was creased with cold sweat, his face had drained of all its color, and his hands were trembling slightly. Was it fear of what was coming or the adrenaline pumping through his blood that caused such a reaction wondered Major Banks.

Looking up and around the operations deck directly below, Banks saw it was filled with young men and women with similar dispositions as they shuffled between stations and crew pits. They were scared he knew, scared of the fact their forces were now dangerously thin, and conscious of the fact if this gambit failed, there would nothing left to stop the rebels from razing them and everything they held dear.

“Major.” The sound came from Banks’ left. The deck lieutenant was standing at attention saluting him. Banks acknowledged the lieutenant’s presence and returned the salute in kind.

“Lieutenant Reese.” Replied Banks.

“Latest reports have come in Sir.” Reese handed the data pad over to the Major. Giving the document a quick scan, Banks learned the fighting near what remained of the Citadel defense grid has subsided and that all civilians and non-military personnel were safely evacuated to Terra’s surface. The report also detailed the extent of the damage to the Starbridge, local law enforcement divisions, the Orbital Defense Fleet and the regular Imperial Forces. According to the report, only one third of the ODF and Imperial Forces were still operational, and now the overwhelming majority of the survivors were now stationed a thousand kilometers above their heads.

“Thank you Lieutenant.” Banks handed the data pad back to Lieutenant Reese.

When Reese did not step down the ramp back to the operations deck, Banks turned to face him again. There was a look of restrained impatience in his eyes; Reese obviously had something more to say.

“What is it?” Asked Major Banks.

“Permission to speak freely.” Reese straightened his posture to address his superior in a dignified manner. The gesture churned a knot in Banks’ stomach; Reese had something to say he was not going to like.

“Granted.” Banks turned to face him.

“You don‘t think this is really going to work do you sir?”

“I beg your pardon?” Banks’ brow beetled showing the distress in his face.

“Face it Sir, I mean, the guy leading this assault is just a backwater farm boy. What could he possibly do any better than the brass before they were killed?”

Banks snuck a quick glance to his right towards the operations deck. Everyone’s attention was riveted on the Major as they awaited his answer. He saw the horror in their eyes, the lack of color in their faces, and the haggardness and exhaustion betrayed by their slumped shoulders and bad posture.

A stray word from his lips could sink this crew’s moral down to the lowest, darkest depths and crush their fighting spirit before a shot was fired. Though seemed like a crazy plan, trying to lure the entire rebel force to this one spot and then launch a counterattack using what little remained of their forces in the area, Banks knew it was up to him to instill confidence in the Prince’s plan, no matter how dangerous or foolish the gambit appeared to be.

“That ‘Backwater Farm-Boy’, as you call him, saved my life, your life and the lives of everyone in this base. Not to mention the fact he has personally led us to victory every step of the way from the frontlines, putting himself at risk for men and women working for his worst enemies in the Axis Council.

And don‘t forget, it was Prince McLeod who uncovered and neutralized the rebel spies in our midst. Thus far, he is the one who’s turned the tide of this battle back in our favor. So when you ask me could he possibly do any better, the answer is yes.”

Banks let that hang in the air, letting it ferment in his men‘s hearts and minds before he turned to address the entire crew. “If anyone can do it, he can.”

“Yes sir.” The lieutenant sighed with defeat. He turned to walk away, but Banks stopped him before he could take a step.

“Lieutenant, you may not agree with me and you may not agree with our Lord’s plan, but you had better be prepared to be proven wrong.”

“And if I‘m not Sir?” Reese countered.

“Then we will all soon be dead.” Banks quietly replied.

Banks smoothed his uniform and crossing his arms across his barrel-muscled chest, looked Reese squarely in the eye.

“Return to your post Lieutenant, I‘m going to need your help during this battle.”

“Understood Sir.” Reese nodded, saluted, and stepped down the ramp with a newfound spring in his step. No matter what his personal beliefs, Reese was a man who could be counted on to do his duty, and to do it to the bitter end.

The crewmembers also had newfound confidence in their leadership, and it showed as they busied themselves with renewed vigor at their action stations.

Moments later every screen lit up with a surge of red, indicating enemy bogies materializing out of nowhere. “Sir, scanners show rebels decloaking.”

“Bring it up on the array.” The holographic array suspended above operations deck shifted from the image of the battle group to a larger image of Terra, the broken pieces of the Starbridge and the moon of Vella. The image blossomed with red blotches that marked the positions of rebel mobile armors dropping their cloaking shadows and becoming visible.

Small groups of five or six appeared at first, but the numbers continued to increase to groups of ten, then twenty, fifty, finally entire squadrons and battalions appeared out of nowhere.

One of the tactical controllers continued to call out progress reports to Major Banks. “Sir, rebels continuing to decloak. Computer unable to estimate their numbers.”

 

One after another Crows and Ravens and Raptors deactivated their cloaking shadows and became visible. First appearing as small units scattered everywhere, their numbers increased until they resembled a dark storm cloud that blocked out everything including the sight of Terra and its sun.

Without their spotters and coordinators, the rebels had no choice other than to deactivate their cloaking shadows and the effect they had of rendering their sensors and tracking equipment useless.

The rebel formations started linking together into a heaving ball that enlarged to the size of a small moon. Grouping together into this classic formation was the standard tactic used by the rebels to take advantage of their shield’s ability to overlap and reinforce one another, increasing the strength of the protective energy bubble surrounding many times over. The effect was so powerful in fact that even the Imperials dreaded blaster weaponry could not penetrate the protective aura.

Bathed in the comfort of their protective shields, Huroni Wing Commander Galen took stock of the situation. The Imperials had deployed themselves into five battle groups in a sweeping defensive line that reached back towards Vella at its edges. The most heavily fortified portions of the line could be found at the flanks, which progressively thinned out closer to the center until the line comprised of no more than a few mobile suit squadrons and a few frigates and the spear-like assault-carrier that destroyed the spotters and coordinators earlier in the battle.

This line was all that stood in their path towards ZODIAC and the complete destruction of the Zyba Orbital Defense Fleet.

Though they had lost the advantage their spotters and coordinators had given them, the Huroni still enjoyed numerical superiority outnumbering the Imperials three to one, they had more than enough firepower to turn the tattered Imperial Forces into ash and then some, and more importantly, they had the leadership of the brilliant and legendary Huron Self Defense Force (HSDF) General Soren.

General Soren was a legend in his own time, he was bold, daring and brilliant, and incredibly brave, he did not know fear, nor did he know defeat. Known to friend and foe as the “Archangel”, Soren was the man who had led the Huroni Self Defense Force to victory against the Imperials at the Gaia Belt, the man who had single-handedly held off the Imperials at the battle for Troon long enough for reinforcements to arrive and turn the tide, the man who had led the Huroni to victory time and again when the chips were down and the odds stacked against them.

Hoping to finally bring the devastating war against Terra to a close, General Soren had masterminded the surprise attack against the Starbridge, and the ambushes that had brought the once mighty Orbital Defense Fleet and Citadel defense grid to its knees.

General Soren had spoken of a multi-pronged assault against Terra’s commercial, communications and military infrastructure. The General had also spoken of separate thrusts against both the heart and mind of the Zyba Empire, both of which would be undertaken by both the General himself and his greatest troops.

What exactly those thrusts entailed was beyond him, but the Wing Commander knew he could rest his confidence in the General’s strategy. What had they to worry about a ragtag fleet of battle weary troops with little or no will left to fight with?

All that remained was go for the jugular. To do that, the Huroni mobile armors would have to hit them where they were weakest: right down their throats.

Pointing his Raptor towards the center, Commander Galen relayed his orders to the entire group. “All units; CHARGE!”

 

“HERE THEY COME!” The battle cry echoed across the airwaves.

The enormous strand charged for the weakest point in the Imperial Forces line; down the center, directly for Jon McLeod and the Corsairs. The two forces collided, Raptor and Raven against Cobra and Anaconda. The rebel stampede hit with crushing force, taking out a large portion of the frontlines with their first pass. The mounting pressure of the attack threatened to overwhelm the defenders as they struggled to hold the line. _Constrictor_ Frigates and Cobra mobile suits from the second line quickly moved to fill in the weak spots.

The battle turned into a brawl with both sides slugging it out at close quarters, Ravens thrashing with their grapple claws and Cobras stabbing and hacking with their baton swords and pikes.

The Corsairs were bogged down with the heaviest fighting. With every swing of his mighty axe and the sting of his Anaconda Fang strike weapon, Ravage cut down dozens of Ravens into flotsam and wreckage, ranting and raving all the while.

His older brother Rumble, not wanting to be outdone by his less sophisticated sibling, was firing his gatling blasters and shot blaster madly. Everywhere he looked he found target after target as the rebels continued to charge with reckless abandon. Rumble fired to starboard, then port, then above and back to starboard and below as he shot down flight after flight of mobile armors and sent them spiraling away as burning hulks.

Unable to use his choice weapon, Scopes disarmed his “Wraith” snipe blaster in favor of the short sword and scythes he reserved for close combat. Scopes kept his movements short and precise, using a minimal amount of effort to carefully identify each target’s weakness and then deliver the killing blow. Scopes’ killing efficiency was inhuman, as was his bloodlust while he continued to smoke cigar after cigar, grinning ear to ear like a vicious predator toying with its prey.

Using her mobile suit’s crushing acceleration and speed, Holly sprinted back and forth across the defensive line as she responded to call after call for reinforcements. The barrels of her light repeating blasters hardly had any time to cool down between engagements and began to softly glow orange from the intense heat. With every twist and turn, Holly blocked flares of iridescent orange pulse beam fire on her shoulder shields. The Odin armor absorbed the worst of the blow, but the heavy concentrations of weapons fire turned the sandy scorched it into a glossy black, almost onyx-like texture.

As the forward lines continued to bend under the weight of the rebel’s attack, the _Pegasus_ along with a contingent _Constrictor_ Frigates and Cobras moved forward to provide much needed support to the beleaguered troops. Almost immediately the ships found themselves swarmed by long, swooping columns of Ravens and Raptors as they lashed out at the vessels with their grapple claws and pulse beam guns.

The _Pegasus_ and _Constrictor_ Frigates countered with their light repeating blaster turrets, chipping away at the rebel’s protective shields with thousands of explosive energy bolts as they zinged by. Hordes of Ravens ignited into orange/blue fireballs as the tiny energy bolts penetrated their shields and left hundreds of holes through their superstructures, causing the power cores to overload and explode with deadly effect.

 

Huroni Commander Galen hovered close enough to the frontlines to see the riot of colorful explosions light up the sky above Vella into a dazzling, yet gut-wrenching display of pyrotechnics. With each flash of blue fire, yet another fellow Huroni’s soul was quashed. The airwaves echoed with battle reports, calls for help, signals of victory and cries of death, all of which molded together into a kind of managed chaos as Huron mobile armors and Zyba mobile suits clashed with one another.

Calling up the latest tactical information on his holographic displays, Commander Galen slowly glanced down the list of the dead, wounded and missing. The casualty rate was abhorring, sickening in fact, as high as 86% during the opening assault.

It was all too clear the frontal assault against the center wasn’t working and that it was time to try something else. Carefully examining the holographic map of the battlefield Commander Galen decided to keep the enemy pinned near the center and send half of his corps to go around the Imperial’s defensive lines. Hopefully they would catch the Imperials off guard and force them to redeploy their troops towards the flanks and thin the line enough for a breakout.

 

MAC continued to feed the latest reports from ZODIAC to the heads-up display throughout the battle. When Jon found himself mired in the fighting, MAC audibly reported these combat updates. The battle was progressing as planned, the rebels were concentrating their number at the center in hopes of breaking through the ‘weakest point’ in the line.

Despite the high amount of casualties, everything was progressing well until a snag manifested itself. The B.A.C. displays revealed the rebels spreading along the line of battle towards the edge of the formation. Jon could see what they were up to, the rebels were trying to circumvent the line altogether and push on towards ZODIAC. If the rebels were allowed to do that, they could encircle the Imperials and cut them down.

They had to be stopped.

Jon activated the encrypted comm and set his orders to be transmitted through ZODIAC back towards the fleet for everyone to hear. “Snipers, aim for the flanks. Make them cluster together.”

ZODIAC’ controllers relayed Jon’s orders to the squadrons of Pythons deployed on the edges, which in turn answered by opening fire on the rebel flocks, picking off scores of mobile armors that ventured too far away from the main force. The rebel’s momentum slowed to a trickle under the constant pounding. The wings of the rebel flock tightened their formation under the protective shell of their reinforcing energy shields.

The flanks continued to onwards, blasting away at the rebel sides, funneling them closer together and driving them towards the center line. Each time they tried to break away, the rebels were pushed back; they had no choice but to continue forward.

With the flanks no longer in danger, Jon turned his attention back towards the center and his Corsairs. Despite their determination, the Corsairs were losing ground against the invaders. The center defensive line which originally curved towards the rebels had straightened and was now bending back towards Vella.

 

Meanwhile on the other side of the battle, Commander Galen was involved in his own battle against a very determined Cobra mobile suit. The mobile suit’s blast shield and left arm had just been blown to bits by Galen’s pulse beam guns, but the pilot kept coming despite the damage. The burnt Cobra lunged forward, a baton sword firmly in the grip of its intact right arm.

Before the sword could reach Galen clenched the Cobra‘s forearm, stopping the long blade only a few meters away. The Cobra pilot struggled in vain to free his arm from Galen’s grasp, but before he could kick with his free leg Galen yanked the mobile suit violently. The sudden move caught the pilot off guard as his Cobra was jerked to starboard. Galen finished him off by driving his right grapple claw into the Cobra’s upper torso and piercing through the cockpit and out the back.

Discarding the destroyed mobile suit, Galen took a moment to assess the tactical situation. The Imperials were putting up more resistance than what he expected, in particular a group of sleek mobile suits with triangular upper torsos. These were the same mobile suits that had routed the teams assigned to destroy ZODIAC and Harbor Point and had escorted the Imperial Forces here to regroup.

They had to be the Corsairs, the elite mobile suit team Huron Intelligence had warned them about weeks earlier. The reports on the Corsairs stated that though the Corsairs were few in number, their prowess in battle made them worth many times their number. From what he was seeing, the reports hadn’t overestimated them at all.

In fact, they didn’t give them enough credit.

Commander Galen was impressed at their bravery and their skill as this group of 25 mobile suits held off an army of hundreds of mobile armors all by themselves. If this battle was going to be won though, the Corsairs had to be dealt with first.

Galen signaled his wingmen to form around him as he shifted course for the centerline and ordered his men to concentrate their attack on the Corsairs.

 

Jon signaled his team, they responded by parting long enough for him to pass through. Wasting no time Jon rocketed straight down the hole which closed as he passed. Once through he set course for the surface of the moon. Vella’s surface completely filled his helmet displays and continued to grow larger as he got closer until he flipped his Super Anaconda around with barely enough time to land on his feet.

The impact carried enough force to push his mobile suit’s legs and shock absorbers to the limit as the mobile suit dug itself knee-high into the bedrock. Large chunks of rock and thick clouds of lunar dust shot upwards with the force of the impact, pelting the Super Anaconda from all sides and shrouding it from sight.

Jon shrugged the disorientation off. “MAC, activate the MADCAP.”

Reaching the Super Anaconda’s right arm behind its back, he pulled out a handgun close to the same size as the mobile suit’s massive forearm. The MADCAP’ oversized barrel was trapezoidal, resembling a pyramid with its peak cut flat. Running along the length of the gun barrel and down the stock was yards of coolant piping and thermal vents to shed the immense amounts of excess heat generated by the weapon.

There was a click and whirl sound in the cockpit as plugs in the Anaconda’s hand and the gun handle coupled together and started feeding power from the reactor.

_MADCAP SYSTEM ONLINE._

The helmet now displayed the operating system for the MADCAP weapon system and included various monitors and readouts of the weapon system’s various components including the list of MADCAP rounds available. Jon scrolled through the list until he found what he wanted.

“Give me a Type 10 shell and calculate the best possible firing solution for maximum damage.”

MAC acknowledged Jon’s order and went to work calculating trajectory, muzzle velocity, the likelihood of the round colliding with wondering stellar object, the rotation and gravitational pull of Vella, even the amount of heat generated by both sides’ weapons. Simultaneously MAC located the Type 10 shell Jon requested inside the Super Anaconda’s thigh-mounted storage bin, which whirled around until the oversized bullet slid from its container. Jon reached for the bullet when the comm came alive with a priority signal from the fleet.

Jon opened the channel and was greeted by the squawk of static accompanied by an urgent voice he recognized as Holly.

The MADCAP’s single round chamber cocked open with a click that was felt more than heard inside the cockpit. Jon loaded the Type 10 shell and slammed the chamber shut.

_TYPE 10 SHELL SELECTED._

“…calling Corsair Leader. I repeat: this is Corsair Two calling Corsair Leader, please respond.”

The defensive line kept getting closer by the second as the rebels continued to pour at the centerline. From this distance, Jon was able to use the Super Anaconda’s cameras to magnify the images enough to identify dozens of Cobras and Anacondas fighting a losing battle against the never-ending tide of Raven and Raptor mobile armors.

The line continued to spread further and further apart, creating small gaps that were quickly filled in by the mobile suits and ships held in reserve. He knew that wouldn’t last long, soon the reserves would be depleted, and there would nothing left to stop the rebels from breaking through.

Jon reset the comm back to open transmission to hear the sounds of the battle. The comm erupted into a frenzy of situation reports, orders, counter orders, calls for reinforcements, and reports of confirmed enemy kills and the sound of the dying.

_GUIDANCE LOCK CONFIRMED, FIRING SOLUTION ONLINE. REROUTING COORDINATES AND TARGETING DATA TO YOU NOW._

“Corsair Leader, this is Corsair Two…” Jon cut into the transmission before the pilot could finish.

“This is Corsair Leader, all units maintain your position.” A cold ache filled his chest at the sound of his own words. Jon did not like sending people to die, but he knew too if the rebels broke through now, a great many more were going to die.

“Corsair Leader, we’re taking heavy casualties. Request permission to fall back and regroup.”

“Permission denied.”

ZODIAC control cut into the communication. “Corsair Leader, if we could just reroute some support from the flanks to relieve the center…”

“Negative.” Interrupted Jon. “All units will stand fast and continue to hold their ground.”

_WEAPON CHARGING; 50%._

It was then Holly broke into the communication using her private frequency. “But Jonny, the center formation’s gonna break any minute. We can‘t hold this position any longer.”

Jon turned his eyes to the tactical display, and he did not like what he was saw. Holly was right, the center line was taking heavy fire, and the body count was rising.

Each individual mobile suit and capital ship was represented by a colored triangle that corresponded to their designation. Large clusters of these icons were now blinking red, indicating the unit was either disabled or destroyed. Jon saw an entire section of the frontline disappear from his monitor only to be replaced with increasingly dense rebel formations.

Glancing at his displays, he saw the MADCAP was up to 66% charge and rising, but it was still wasn’t close enough to fire the powerful Type 10 shell. Jon steeled himself for what he had to do.

“Follow your orders, soldier.” He cut off communications with the Corsairs and returned his attention towards the targeting scope displayed inside his flight suit’s helmet and settled in to wait.

The seconds seemed to pass like minutes, and the minutes like hours as Jon watched the MADCAP’ charge slowly rise higher and higher. The protective barrier of mobile suits and battleships continued to crumble as charge after charge took a heavy toll on the defenders. He didn’t allow himself the luxury of feeling for the men and women as they fought and died to hold the rebels back, but he did take comfort in the knowledge that their sacrifices would not be for nothing.

_WEAPON CHARGE AT 75%._

Jon opened a priority channel to the entire fleet. “This is Corsair Leader to all Imperial Forces, evacuate the target area immediately! I repeat, evacuate the area immediately!”

_WEAPON CHARGE AT 80%. I STRONGLY ADVISE YOU GET YOUR MEN IN GEAR._

“Get Clear! NOW!” Jon exclaimed over the comm as he struggled to maintain his grip on the quaking MADCAP.

As he watched, the defensive line parted and disappeared, leaving only the sight of hundreds and hundreds of mobile armors falling out of the sky in one monstrous wave of glowing pulse beam guns and shimmering grapple claws.

_85%, 90%, 95%..._

Sweat collected on Jon’s forehead, his body coursed with adrenaline and began to shake from the tension of seeing an entire army heading straight towards him.

The stock-mounted generator began to spin madly, gathering an inordinate amount of energy that swirled like a tornado as it grew stronger and became more intense. The maelstrom of power threatened to overtake the gun as it reached its peak, until suddenly, the storm funneled back into the gun stock.

_WEAPON CHARGE AT 100%, READY TO FIRE._

 

The Imperials were fighting with a level of skill and ferocity that was uncommon for the likes of them. Despite this, the overwhelming numerical superiority enjoyed by the Huroni was simply too much for the besieged Corsairs and their allies. The line continued to bend back and towards ZODIAC, thinning out and weakening the strength of the Imperial defenses. It wouldn’t be long before it finally cracked.

Galen was about to lead another push against the Corsairs when, for no apparent reason, the line dissolved right in front of him. Mobile suits disengaged, abandoning their posts and fleeing along with the frigates and destroyers, leaving Vella and ZODIAC wide open.

It was the opportunity Commander Galen had been waiting for, and he simply could not pass it up, and ordered all units to charge forward.

The Huron force plunged towards Vella’s dusty surface like a water out of a faucet as the gap opened wider. Galen suspected something was wrong, so he set his scanners and holographic displays to active search. Within a heartbeat the scanner picked a heat signature directly below them.

The holographic image shifted to a close-up view of the lunar surface. A single battle-scarred white and blue mobile suit was standing with its feet firmly planted in the ground. Magnifying the image further, Galen spotted what appeared to be a magnum-sized handgun of some sort being held high in the mobile suit’s hands.

A flicker of intense blue light was flaring from the stock of the gun, jolts of lightning jumped up and down the length of the gun and even leaped to the mobile suit. Lunar dust began lifting off the moon’s surface, obscuring the sight of the mobile suit until quite suddenly, the energy swirling around the gun disappeared.

 

The collected energy shot into the trapezoidal gun barrel. Regulator coils glowed blue, then white-hot as the barrel slid forward to double its length. The barrel itself began to throb with power as the intense heat gave it a mellow orange glow that grew brighter and brighter.

_TARGET LOCKED._

The crosshairs glowed red, the whine of the targeting computer drowned out the constant rumble inside the cockpit.

“EAT THIS!”

Jon fired the gun.

The recoil was savage; overpowering even the monumental strength of the Anaconda’s enhanced arms as the gun bucked wildly from the concussion wave. The sheer power pushed the gun barrel backwards into the stock, reducing its length in half.

The heat taxed the gun’s coolant systems to the limit, barely able to suppress the gun’s internal temperature below the red line and prevent a catastrophic meltdown. The Anaconda’s arms glowed orange as the Odin armor absorbed the heat like a dry sponge, charring the mobile suit’s skin to earth brown then pitch black across the breadth of the arms as the round raced towards its target.

 

The white-and-blue mobile suit fired its gun. The shockwave of the blast dissipated the cloud of dust that had gathered and sent a powerful ripple across the lunar surface that heaved everything in its path three meters off the ground. The ripple continued to race across the surface a like a rippling wave across a flat pond leaving a shallow yet immense crater in its wake, sinking the mobile suit further into the dusty surface.

The bullet sped through space and passed by harmlessly and continued onward, failing to hit anything in the formation. Galen wondered for a moment if the pilot’s aim was that bad, or if the weapon had misfired. Whatever the case, Galen pushed the thought aside and ordered his men to advance forward.

Suddenly, the holographic displays in his cockpit shorted out, plunging the mobile armor into darkness. The only light coming into the cockpit was from the canopy visor, Commander Galen craned his neck to glance at a strange light at the edge of his peripheral vision.

Galen opened his eyes wide as the Type 10 shell detonated and unleashed a blindingly spectacular flash of light that engulfed his mobile armor.

It was the last thing he would ever see.

 

The Type 10 bullet passed through rank after rank of densely core of the formation. There, the unique combination of elements inside the magnum-sized “Cluster Bomb” bullet detonated. The tiny spark of an explosion scattered the unified elements, sprinkling them throughout the rebel’s ranks.

Moments later, these specks in turn detonated. This time though, the explosions that resulted were far from insignificant. The chain of fire continued to strengthen and reinforce one another, building greater and greater force until finally, all the explosions linked together to create a single tremendous fireball that engulfed the rebels in the heat of a thousand suns.

 

“What in the…” The words were barely of his mouth when a sudden flare of overpowering light filled flashed in the midst of the cloud of rebel mobile armors. Banks threw his arms up to shield his eyes from the harsh light, many of the other crewmembers on the observation deck followed suit.

When the light finally subsided, Major Banks lowered his arms; and was shocked at the sight before him. The immense cloud of rebel mobile armors that had previously filled the view screen was gone.

“What was that?” asked a young technician from the nearby crew pit.

“That could have been only one thing.” He turned and looked each crewmember in the eye, seeing the horror and awe in their faces. “A MADCAP.”

“That‘s impossible!” Exclaimed the nearby Lieutenant Reese. “That weapon can‘t possibly be a MADCAP! It‘s ludicrous!”

“Sir?” A nearby crewmember tentatively asked, “What’s a MADCAP?”

“You‘ve never heard of a MADCAP, Private?” Reese was incredulous at the younger man’s ignorance.

“No, sir.”

Reese looked at the crewman, then turned and locked gazes with Major Banks. Banks nodded his approval before returning his attention to the battle outside.

“MADCAP is an acronym for Magnetically AccelerateD Composite Ammunition Pistol.” Began Lieutenant Reese, obviously in his element. “It’s a weapon of legend said to have existed many centuries ago during the time of Zyba’s Revolution. The most widely accepted theory is that it was a highly advanced magnetic accelerator that possessed the ability to use different types of specially crafted bullets, each one singularly unique in their composition and effect. It is said the MADCAP was so horrifying in its power that it could split a world in half.”

“If it‘s so powerful, why haven‘t I ever heard of it sir?” Replied the crewman.

“The technology was lost after the Revolution.” continued Reese, “along with most of the records from around that time. All that has survived are rumors and legends of the weapon and its power. Despite the lack of technical readouts and blueprints, many have sought to revive the technology. There have been many attempts over the past century or two to reconstruct a working example; thus far no one has succeeded.”

“Until now, that is.” Pointed out the young man.

“So it would seem, Private.” Major Banks beetled his brow, brooding on the terrifying consequences of opening the Pandora‘s Box that was MADCAP technology, and he didn‘t like it at all. “So it would seem.”

 

Jon could not help but gawk at the magnitude of the fire and destruction he had unleashed with the simple pull of a trigger. The enormous cloud that had once been thousands of mobile armors had disappeared in a single flare of light and retribution, vaporized by the clusters of explosive energies. Those that survived were scattered everywhere, some with half-vaporized hulls, some blackened like charcoal, and a great many more just floated in space like a fish dead in the water.

He had done this, all of it. He alone was responsible for the destruction and loss of life, and Jon knew he would ultimately bear the responsibility.

Getting a grip on himself once again, Jon focused once again on his instruments. The blast must have had some residual effect on his sensors and monitors, all of which were as black and empty as outer space. Jon checked the status of his Anaconda, darting his eyes across the overhead boards that indicated the health of his steed. All lights were still green, and there to the center of the board were the diagnostics for MAC.

Yes, MAC was still operational with no sustained damage.

“MAC; report status.” Commanded Jon.

_GIVE A MOMENT… ANALYSIS COMPLETE. I AM REROUTING THE DATA TO YOUR DISPLAYS._

“90% of the enemy vaporized?” Jon’s shoulders sunk along with his spirits. His head lowered until it came to rest in his left hand. “At least their deaths were quick.”

_REMAINING ENEMY UNITS HAVE SUFFERED EXTENSIVE DAMAGE FROM THE CONCUSSION OF THE BLAST AND HEAT SCORING._

“Incredible.” The word escaped his lips into a whisper barely audible above the sounds of the cockpit. It was hard to imagine the sheer level of destruction one insignificant mobile suit could unleash. Incredible was the only word Jon could use to describe it.

_ENEMY UNITS ARE DRIFTING, BUT SENSORS INDICATE THEY ARE RAPIDLY COMING BACK ONLINE. I RECOMMEND RENEWING YOUR ASSAULT IMMEDIATELY._

“Agreed, MAC.” Jon activated his command frequency to address the battle group. “All units: Break ranks, close range with the enemy and engage your targets at will.”

Holstering his Magnum Buster, Jon once again drew his Claymore sword. Favoring himself with a quick glance to the port and starboard, Jon witnessed as his fellow Corsairs along with a mixed company of other Imperial Forces mobile suits silently reloaded their blasters, primed whatever stellar grenades remained in their inventory, and unsheathed baton swords as they charged into the Huroni formations.

A bead of sweat trickled along his forehead as he readied himself; giving the order, he pushed the engines of his battle scarred Anaconda to maximum burn and accelerated forward with tremendous speed, pushing Jon back into his harness with intense force.

The battle soon sank into the bloody depths of a massacre as the Huroni, unable to defend themselves, were butchered like cattle. After twenty minutes of the excruciating inhumanity, Jon felt the first moments of relief during the conflict as the tattered Huroni remnants finally began to retreat.

 

“Sir; all remaining Huroni forces are altering course.” Reported the tactical officer, his attention firmly fixed on the monitors arrayed in before him. His eyes darted back and forth along the steady flow of scrolling data, taking in all the information. Still, he could not believe what his eyes were telling him.

The stunned disbelief melted away from his face as he swiveled the chair towards the rest of his comrades, they too were waiting in tense anticipation. “They‘re retreating, sir.”

Cheers, whistles, hoots, and joyous outcries erupted from every corner of the observation deck as the news finally took root. They slapped each other on the back, firmly shook hands, some fell to their knees and kissed the deck.

Similar scenes were repeated everywhere throughout the system, from the great hallways of the Imperial offices on Vella to the flight decks of orbiting defense platforms and back again amongst the surviving civilians and Imperial Forces in and around the Starbridge. The sounds of laughter, joy, sadness, relief and celebration overwhelmed the airwaves as the Huroni forces continued to retreat.

Inside the observation deck, Major Banks turned away from the crew pits, choosing instead to enjoy his reverie in what little privacy he could enjoy having been so close to death.

 Minutes later, the Major was joined by several crewmembers including a particularly jubilant young Private who led the party in celebration.

“We did it.” The young Private kept repeating. “I can‘t believe it. We did it! WE WON!”

“No Private.” Major Banks said as he gazed out the observation deck‘s massive armored windows. A generous, swelling mixture of awe, pride and fear filled his mind and body as he contemplated the events that transpired today. “He did it; he saved us all and gave us our victory.”

Though numerous and well-armed, the mighty Imperial Forces and the Orbital Defense Fleet had been taken completely by surprise. The ineffective leadership of the presiding Axis Houses had blundered repeatedly, gravely underestimating the Huroni and the capabilities of their war machine.

Yet, when it seemed there was no hope left in sight, Jon McLeod appeared with his Corsairs and had done the impossible, they had turned the tide of battle. Even more impressive than this was the fact that Jon McLeod, Prince of the House McLeod, had personally led the battle from the frontlines, risking his own life alongside those of his men. The Prince had even gone so far as to stick his own neck out for men and women he didn’t know, men and women whose own allegiance lay with House McLeod’s worst rivals in the Axis Council.

Major Terrance Banks turned slowly to take in the full image of the observation deck as his soldiers returned to their posts. Had it not been for the timely arrival of Jon McLeod and his Corsairs, every one of them might very well be dead, just another frozen corpse floating into the unforgiving blackness of space.

Banks counted his blessings, and prayed silently that there would be more men and women like Prince McLeod. They and they alone, he knew, would be the ones to bring about a bright new future for the war weary people of the Terra star system.

 

Jon couldn’t understand it, the scattered Imperial Forces had rallied together and shrugged off the initial surprise plaguing them and had turned the battle to their favor. The enemy was all but wiped out, and the few survivors were retreating.

Something was wrong…

This was the first time in 300 years the Huroni had taken the fight directly to the Zyban’s territory. Jon commanded the B.A.C. and MAC to run an analysis on the number of confirmed rebel casualties cataloged. MAC called up information from ZODIAC’ computers while the Battle Analysis Computer did its magic. Moments later, the results from both analyses were displayed on his helmet-mounted HUD, the analysis confirmed Jon suspicions.

The confirmed number of rebel casualties as opposed to the estimated number thought to be in the rebel taskforce was substantial, leaving over a third of the rebel fleet still intact and in the area. A hard-edged gut feeling plagued Jon as he mulled the possibilities through his head.

The Huron Rebel’s true objective — whatever it was — still had not been achieved. They were after something else, something so painstakingly obvious, yet so important that it could very well decide the real outcome of this battle.

But what was it?

Jon got a sinking feeling as the floating remnants of the Starbridge’s large volume of spacecraft drifted into the center of vision inside his helmet displays. Shifting directions gently toward the hazy debris cloud, Jon lit his engines to a soft burn and ordered MAC to keep all scanners on high alert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to take a moment to say thank you very much for your time, and I hope that you were able to enjoy reading one of my earliest attempts at fanfiction. Feel free to leave a Kudos or comment if you've enjoyed it. Reviews are also welcome whether good or bad. I value all feedback and criticism and use it to improve my storytelling and writing ability.


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